


Believer

by FereldensApostate



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action & Romance, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Mages (Dragon Age), Red Templars (Dragon Age), Templars (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26069206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FereldensApostate/pseuds/FereldensApostate
Summary: Skylar Tabris, daughter of the late Hero of Ferelden, is not at all thrilled about becoming the Herald. She's a deeply troubled apostate surrounded by templars and mages who have little respect for her. Now she's stuck with a Mark on her hand and no home to go back to. A modern AU re-telling of Inquisition with twists outside of the cannon story. And possible romance, of course.
Relationships: Delrin Barris/Original Female Character(s), Female Hawke/Cullen Rutherford, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

If you would have told Skylar Tabris that she'd be attending the Conclave, she'd have laughed it off. She wasn't important enough for that. She wasn't even important enough to get official justice against the human that…hurt…her. Her brother had to do that himself, and he got dragged away by the guardsmen for it. There was also that bit about her being a dreaded apostate that really, really needed to keep her mouth shut and her head down if she knew what was good for her. The media had already swarmed all over her family twice now; once to worship her mother as the Hero of Ferelden all those years ago and then again to label her bother a cold-blooded murderer. It was a miracle that no one ever looked closely enough at her to discover her magic and she really needed to keep it that way. Even if it meant suffering injustices in silence. Everyone else seemed entitled and welcomed to air their grievances for every other petty offense or perceived insult all over social media, but she couldn't afford to do so even with a fabricated or anonymous identity. People said that templars had ways to get your information no matter what you did to hide or protect yourself from their intrusion. Everything was legal in the name of rooting out the dreaded apostates. True or not, she wasn't stupid enough to risk getting tossed in the Circle because she couldn't deal with her own trauma. Even if it was utterly crippling at times…She still needed work though, especially now that Killian was gone. How else was she gonna pay the rent with a good-for-nothing drunkard for a father?

Turns out all of those fancy, powerful nobles still needed workers. So suddenly there she was, bumping elbows with important people. She grits her teeth and bites her tongue as she serves those fancy, important people wine and fine foods while they so impatiently waited for a moment of the Divine's time.

Skylar couldn't help but be in awe of the mages, though. She was silently kicking herself in the ass for not turning herself in if they were truly going to be free now. She had a mind to walk right up to them now, plead with them to allow her to join them. Maybe it would get her out of that shithole they call the Alienage. But no…then what would happen to her father? It's not like he's done her any favors in recent memory, but still. She owed him…right?

She vaguely remembers going through the motions, putting on her best customer service voice for the hundredth time…but then, it's foggy…and after that? Nothing…

When she awakens hand-cuffed to the floor in the dungeon beneath the Chantry, she freaks. There's a searing pain in the palm of her hand but it's inconsequential at the moment. She was surrounded by a bunch of armed humans, men from the looks of them too. She could feel that her pockets were empty, meaning they'd taken her wallet and phone. Someone far more important than her was probably going through all of it.

This was it, she thought, the templars were finally going to haul her away. Did the Conclave fail? What's going on? What were they going to do to her?

That Seeker woman is rough with her but not malicious. Skylar appreciates that, a shem showing restraint is rare in her experience after all. And when she sees that thing…the Breach…Maker's Breath, that can't be…ah, fuck her hand hurts—what even is this damned thing? That Seeker tells her that it's killing her, but maybe, just maybe she can stop that thing in the sky…maybe she can save them all?

Skylar is scared shitless then. But what choice does she have? Either she dies fighting or writhing in agony on a floor in that dungeon…surrounded by humans…yeah, to the void with that. The chaos around her makes her think of her mother: she was brave, she was courageous and smart and all of those things that Skylar really needed to be right now. She takes a deep breath, although it doesn't calm her down as much as she wished it did. She tells that Seeker that she'll do everything she can. And she willingly follows that Seeker into battle, fights hard to control this Mark thing…

When she wakes up after closing the Breach, she's in a small apartment. Totally annoyed and freaked out that she seemed to have blacked out, again. And around complete strangers who hadn't even begun to earn her trust yet. Whoever put her there had left the TV going in the bedroom. The news was seemingly in a frenzy over the 'incident' at the conclave. Her picture was plastered over the screen. It was horrifying to realize these people had already found out so much about her and were all too ready to try and paint her as the dreaded murderer of the Divine. Killian was already a convicted killer, not too much of a stretch to think his little sister would be too. Oh, how far the children of the Hero of Ferelden had fallen. Such a shame.

There's this poor, scared serving girl in the living room who seems like she's ready to piss herself as she tells Skylar that the Lady Seeker wanted to see her. Skylar stands there watching the girl flee the apartment, somehow feeling as though she can't move herself from that spot just yet. It was the strangest, most frightening thing…like there was no going back. Nothing to be done but move forward into uncertainty. Whatever lay before her out there, it was going to change her life forever—if it hadn't already…She really hoped the Maker had a plan for all of this…not that she truly believed that any plan of his would have been made for her benefit.

There's people in the hallway all staring at her like she was their only hope. Every one of them feel like more and more weight on her shoulders. Is this how her mother felt? Her head is practically spinning. Just days ago, she was no one. Now they call her the Herald of Andraste? The Herald of a prophet that never helped her no matter how much she cried out for it. The whole thing just feels wrong, sickening even. She can't get out of that building fast enough. But the effort is in vain, there's people lining the street all the way up to the Chantry. It must have been the whole town by that point. Some of them whispered as she passed by. The terms 'Herald' and 'Murderer' reached her ears in equal measure. At least no one seemed concerned about her magic just yet…

Something comes over her when she hears that damned Chancellor yelling. He was trying to put the blame on her, make her the scapegoat. Sure, blame the elf. Not like she has anyone in her corner, such an easy target. But something about it reminds her of her mother yet again. The woman had been dead for years, but somehow Skylar could still conjure her voice in her mind when she needed it most. "The world will try to tell you who you are, what you should be. Be the example of what you want to be. And soon enough, you'll believe it yourself."

She's doing her best impression of Warden Commander Ashalle Tabris when she barges in on their heated meeting. Being the daughter of the Hero of Ferelden never gave her any special perks before, but maybe copying her mother's demeanor could get her through this. She just had to fake it until this nightmare was over…

All she wants to do is punch that sneer right off of the Chancellor's face but logic tells her that it won't solve a damn thing. She's perfectly cordial, giving him not a single reason to continue his hostility towards her. He doesn't relent but neither does she.

Skylar is nearly moved to tears when that Seeker stands up for her. That welled up emotion got even harder to hide when she asked her to stay. It wasn't an order or a mandate, it was an offer. Cassandra was the first human she'd ever met that made her feel like her choice mattered. Skylar was wholly convinced that the Seeker could have easily had her arrested and cuffed up again, but she gave her the choice to help. It went a long way to building a surprisingly easy friendship, despite their vast differences.

She'd never thought of herself as particularly helpful or useful, much less a bloody hero that's going to be set out to fix the damned world…but here she is. It's overwhelming to say the least. Everyone is always looking at her like she stepped out of the very heavens. Even the ones who try to be nice seem to do it in the worst ways sometimes. That ambassador—Josephine, in particular. Every compliment somehow seems back-handed, or just forced and insincere. After a while, she just decides it has to be a product of the shemlen nobility. Josephine does try to be her friend when it counts. She helps her by sending an official letter to her father to explain her new circumstances and extend an invitation, which Skylar was immensely grateful for. She wasn't sure what she was planning to say to him…but she wasn't expecting to hear back from him either…He was probably too drunk to read the damned thing anyway.

Her nights are plagued with terrible dreams. That bald elf—Solas—keeps telling her it's because she's highly untrained with her magic. But every bit of 'help' he offers comes with condescending tones and stories about things that don't and won't ever matter to her. Ancient shit, past glories of generations that had long since died. She takes great pride in showing him exactly how dangerous she can be with her "untrained" magic when he spars with her. It's the small things that remind her that it could be worse. It's at least better than the alienage, although that's not saying much.

The traveling is nice. Her feet are totally riddled with blisters but she's in awe of the world. Logically, she knew it was silly, but a part of her never really believed that there was a world outside the alienage. And every time she gets to watch the sun rise over the mountains, she's so happy to be wrong.

She keeps postponing that damned, hair-brained trip to Val Royeaux. Really, when Josephine suggested it, she had to stop herself from calling her an idiot. What good could that possibly do? Did they all conveniently forget that she's basically the embodiment of everything the Chantry hates? She keeps herself busy with the many demands of the refugees in the hinterlands, playing the selfless hero. She does feel good about helping all of those people, sure. But really, she's doing for purely selfish reasons. Heroes aren't selfish, she would remind herself. She would lie awake some nights plagued by her own self-depreciating thoughts. She wasn't cut out for this. She wasn't who they thought she was.

She's terrified of going to Orlais. She's an elf. A bloody apostate. With a big, scary, green Mark on her hand that does things even she doesn't fully understand. Sure, Cassandra promised to go with her and that was nice…but is she really gonna be enough to protect her from all of those Chantry zealots that want her head?

They finally set off for the trip when there was nothing else that she possibly could have done to stall it. Maker only knew what awaited her in that den of vipers…but she knew that he wouldn't answer her, he never did. But still, she continued to pray throughout that long car ride. Even her sour cream and onion chips and cherry coke brought her no comfort once they crossed the Orlesian border—especially after her phone died and she was forced to listen to the news radio Cassandra insisted on playing. Every mile afterwards felt like impending doom. She wished that the Maker would give her some sort of sign to tell her that she's on the right path, or that she was at least doing the right things. She would have taken anything at that point. A vision of Andraste in her Captain Crunch? An arrow-shaped cloud in the sky? Was a dashing knight in shining armor too much to hope for?

She tried hopelessly to engage herself in her phone once it charged back up, but nothing worked. All of her accounts were now littered with friend requests and personal messages. Even Pinterest seemed to be filled to the brim with new fan art about her and Tumbler and Reddit was aflame with conspiracy theories. She couldn't bloody escape it. If it weren't for her extensive music collection, she might have thrown the damn phone out the window.

Maybe she really did need a knight in shining armor. She wistfully remembers watching a movie about apostates, one where they were able to craft a spell to conjure the perfect man. It's funny in a way, really. The apostates did it so that they could never die of a broken heart, because the perfect man didn't exist. But right now, all she could wish for was having someone strong enough to hold her up, because she felt like she was in constant danger of crumbling down. If only there were a spell for that.


	2. Chapter 2

Knight-Templar Barris was convinced that the remaining clerics had picked today to host the meeting out of purely petty reasons. It was easily the hottest day of the entire year. The was sun beating down harshly on the courtyard like it was the wrath of the Maker himself. And it didn't help matters that it seemed to be refracting off of every damned piece of golden inlay on every bloody building. Neither the clerics or the nobility seemed to be bothered by it though. But why would they be? They all had servants routinely bringing them ice cold beverages, holding their obnoxious umbrellas for them, and sometimes just outright fanning them because they couldn't be bothered with the effort themselves. None of them had to stand there out in the open clad in heavy ceremonial armor, either.

_You'd think whoever designed these bloody things would have taken the weather into consideration. How am I supposed to focus properly when I'm worried about losing half of my weight to sweat?_

Barris groaned as discreetly as possible as he re-adjusted his posture. Not that it helped to make him any more comfortable. His orders told him to keep his position upon the make-shift stage with the clerics, and well, orders are orders.

This whole bloody thing seemed like an obnoxious waste of time, anyway. If this Herald was truly such a blasphemer, then why invite her to talk? If the clerics truly believed that she killed the Divine, then why was she not simply hauled away in cuffs?

_They probably mean to make a show of it, blasted nobility._

It brought Barris no small amount of discomfort to know that he was the only templar that answered the call to come here. It all but confirmed those dreadful rumors for him: the templars truly had gone rogue—or were sequestered within loyalist circles, protecting their charges from the local mobs. There must be some loyal Knights left…perhaps he could set out to find them once this charade of justice was over with?

As the crowds began to gather around the stage, Barris kept a keen eye over the growing audience. He was the only line of defense these clerics had; it would be up to him to address whatever trouble came for them. This really was such a horrible placement, strategically speaking. Whoever decided on this spot was clearly an utter moron or willfully ignorant. He couldn't help but picture his old friend's reaction to this. Cullen Rutherford would have lost his damned mind over the stupidity of it all. He wondered for a moment where he was now…Last he heard, Cullen was transferred to Kirkwall after the fall of Kinloch Hold all those years ago…He found himself saying a silent prayer for his friend's soul, hoping that it was an unnecessary effort. He'd heard that a lot of the Kirkwall templars died when the mages revolted, he just hoped beyond hope that his friend wasn't among them. But he focused himself back to the task at hand. Pointing out all of the strategical fallacies would surely help in that regard.

Strike One: The stage had no sight line to the gate at the main entrance off the Imperial Highway.

Strike Two: It positioned clerics to have their backs turned to an alleyway that led to a lake, which could be easily exploited to spring an ambush.

Strike Three: The upper balconies housed private residences, some of which were owned by people that weren't even native to the city or Orlais for that matter. At least 2 of them were known to be very vocally anti-chantry.

Strike Four: If things did go south, there was no good place to hide the clerics. Ushering them into a far corner of the lower market seemed his best bet, and it wasn't ideal to say the least. There was a very real risk of failure should he have to resort to that.

Strike Five: Because the remaining Mothers decided it was a wonderful idea to invite the press, there were at least half a dozen newscasters filming this impending catastrophe at every possible angle. Meaning, the whole damned world now knew that the templars had truly abandoned the Chantry. Oh, and they were all about to see him fail spectacularly most likely.

Strikes 6-10: And to top it off, the Maker-Forsaken stage was sitting in direct sunlight.

_Maker, if I die for this charade, please just make it worthwhile…somehow. Is it too much to hope for that the Maker's side feels like a Ferelden winter's night?_

He couldn't help but let his mind wander for just a moment. It wasn't something that was a problem for him usually; he blamed this particular moment of weakness on the ungodly heat. All he wanted to think about was his home. Black Hallows used to feel like too small of a town for him. But now with this damned war brewing and the Divine's death and Maker-knows-what-else in the coming days, he suddenly wished he'd gone home to visit more often. A morbid thought crossed his mind: perhaps he should prepare himself for the possibility of never seeing his home again…this war could turn even uglier with very minimal effort, after all…

His attention was snapped back to the present when he saw the crowd beginning to part for a small group of people. He recognized that first woman. He'd never met Seeker Pentaghast personally, of course, but her heroics were legendary. You would have had to have been living under a rock for the past decade or so not to know of her at least. He had never heard a bad word spoken about the Seeker. If she were with this Herald, they couldn't be so bad, right?

He certainly didn't recognize the other three with her. A roguish-looking dwarf, a seemingly homeless elf, and then…

His mind nearly blanked when he first caught sight of her. If he hadn't known any better, he was looking at the second coming of Andraste herself. Her long, silvery-blonde hair was parted just enough for him to catch a glimpse of her bright, nearly glowing green eyes. She absently tucked her hair behind her pointed ear, revealing her face fully.

But, Maker, what was she wearing? And how was he _not_ supposed to look? No wonder the Chantry wanted to label her a hated blasphemer. Her thinly-strapped tank top did nothing to hide the size of her chest. It was temporarily distracting to say the least, but Barris was nothing if not disciplined. She truly seemed as if she had dressed herself specifically to piss off every single cleric in Thedas.

The Orlesian Chantries specifically denounced certain pieces of attire as being completely antithetical to the Chant and the Maker…although, to be fair, most of those 'mandates' changed with the season, as did most things Orlesian. But everything she wore was a consistent and constant faux pas. Ripped blue jeans, a black leather belt that was seemingly decorated with old bullet casings (how that alone hadn't gotten her arrested yet was truly beyond him—the damned things had been outlawed for civilians along with the matching guns for a couple of decades now), and not to mention the black nail polish and the tattoo on her right forearm: a long-stemmed blue rose that seemed to be holding together a broken heart. There was a story behind that, he was sure of it.

She seemed uncomfortable as she wordlessly followed the Seeker. And if the way that she was rubbing at her palm was any indication, it wasn't just from the situation. She took a place beside the Seeker, leaving the other two to stand behind them. She took a deep breath and finally looked up towards the stage…

When her eyes landed on Barris, she was clearly shocked. Her eyes bulged; her mouth hung open just slightly. She seemed to realize what she'd done and quickly removed her obvious reaction. A flush crept up on her cheeks, an awkward, almost painful smile formed over her lips.

Mother Hevarra began her pre-rehearsed spiel without delay, thankfully drawing both of them out of whatever madness had taken over them momentarily there. Barris tuned the Mother out in the beginning. She'd practiced this little speech quietly with her peers over and over for the last hour now.

Instead, he tried to judge the Herald's reaction to the accusations. To her credit, she seemed genuinely upset at first. But the more Mother Hevarra talked, the more and more outraged she clearly got. Barris hadn't missed the fact that her clenched fists had formed an icy aura around them. Something her companions seemed all too content to ignore, surprisingly. Knowing that she was a mage now, changed things. Breathtaking as she was, he couldn't let her do anything drastic here. He gripped his tower shield, readying himself to block or dispel whatever magic she'd throw at the Revered Mother, especially knowing what she was about to say next.

"…This is a false prophet! The Maker would send no elf in our hour of need!"

This was it, he thought, Mother Hevarra was about to get an icicle to the face. The Herald glared so harshly at her that Barris actually expected for her to conjure an entire blizzard instead. But she didn't. He found himself silently praising her for having such restraint.

"And do you know everything the Maker commands?" She discreetly flexed her fingers as the frosty aura faded from them. "I alone can seal the Breach and I am doing everything in my power to do so."

It was a bold claim, that much was true. But what could any of them really say against it? Barris had always prided himself on being a good judge of character. Trusting his instincts had saved his skin on more than a few occasions. But this was the first time that his instincts were completely contradicting his orders. He wasn't here to reason with or question this Herald, but he found himself fighting the urge to do so with every second that ticked by.

He at first tried to tell himself that it was simply because he didn't want to believe that such a beautiful woman was some evil villain. But no, it was more than that. In his experience, a villain was typically overconfident, arrogant, and openly spiteful. This Herald was none of those things as far as he could see. Whether she actually was sent by Andraste was still in question for him, be he couldn't stomach painting her as this purely evil demon intent on dismantling the Chantry and overtaking the world. His commanders often said that his ever-questioning mind was a detriment to him, and a large reason behind the fact that he'd never been promoted. If something didn't add up, he was the first one to ask for clarification. It never mattered who it was or how embarrassing the question might be or how public the venue. He mused for a short moment that the clerics had very clearly picked the wrong person to be their yes-man.

He impatiently waited until the Revered Mother was done degrading the Herald and her companions before stepping up next to her on the platform. "Excuse me, Mother Hevarra. I've a question for the Herald, if I may?"

The cleric sneered deviously and nodded in agreement. "But of course! Ser Barris is an exemplary knight. Let him serve to show that even the lowest ranking Templars look on in disbelief."

 _Well that was a back-handed insult if I've ever heard one._ Barris forced on a polite smile, suppressing the urge to make a snide comment about those ridiculous hats. He steeled himself as he locked eyes with the Herald. She seemed nervous, flustered even. He made a mental note to take it easy on her. He got the feeling that these circumstances were perhaps more unnerving for her than anyone else. "I was always taught that Andraste favors all of the Maker's children. Not just humans. She may very well have sent an elf, who are we to decide? Andraste is known to be merciful, kind, and protective. I cannot believe that she would be content to watch recent events unfold without extending a helping hand. Why wouldn't she send someone to fix the world and save the faithful? But proving this is a difficult task—too difficult to even attempt, I wager. Even our lady herself did not have the power to perform miracles out of thin air. So, I ask this instead: If Andraste chose you then why? What made you so special?"

A look crossed the Herald's face that could only be described as 'Well, shit'.

Seeker Pentaghast appeared disturbed by the question. She took a half-step in front of the Herald. "She does not have to justify—"

"Cassandra, It's alright…" The Herald gave her a reassuring smile when she turned to her. She waited until the Seeker returned to her place beside her to continue. "To be totally honest, I've asked myself that over and over since I got this damn thing. And I seriously don't know. I am so not special. I'm not strong, or virtuous, or wildly intelligent. I grew up in an alienage. Andraste and Maker were names you used as a curse, not a prayer. I had no faith in a higher power of any kind. I was a no-named waitress, serving drinks to the important people in the Conclave. I have no idea how I survived when every other person died. Or how I got this Mark…But the only thing I am so positively certain of is that Andraste had a hand in this…I don't expect anyone to believe me. I don't want to be worshiped or famous or anything like that. All I want—All the Inquisition wants—is to fix that damned hole in the sky. This Mark can do it, but I need help."

 _Damn,_ he thought, _hard to argue with that…what if the clerics really were wrong?_

He wouldn't get to ask any further questions. When the Lord Seeker showed up with his contingent of brainwashed templars, everything went to shit. He tried to protest but he was clearly out numbered. There was little he could do without openly defying the order. And he simply couldn't do that, not yet at least. He had to see it for himself. If there was any way that the order could be salvaged, he'd have to try. Even if it was only him fighting for it. He shared a sympathetic look with the Herald as he left. Throughout that long trek to Theirinfall, all he seemingly did was pray. For the Order, for the bloody world, and for the Herald. He hoped beyond hope that she really was what she said she was. If there was one thing the world desperately needed right now, it was a damned miracle from Andraste herself.


	3. Chapter 3

"Just admit that I'm right."

"Bullshit." Skylar snarked in the most passive-aggressive sing-song way she possibly could. Anyone else within her inner circle likely would have given up by now in favor of avoiding being turned into a popsicle. But not Varric, evidently.

She wasn't even sure how they'd gotten to this point in the conversation. Well, it wasn't such a huge stretch to be honest. He had opened with the expressed intention of interviewing her for the future series or whatever that he was definitely going to write. Still, it wasn't like she hadn't tried to politely refute the question twice now. But Andraste's ass was he persistent. He was acting like she was wearing a shirt saying 'I'm an open book, please ask me about my sexual preferences'. Not that anything in her hand-me-down wardrobe would have been big enough on her to facilitate having any words written on it. She did appreciate that Josephine arranged to have Skylar's personal things brought to her apartment in Haven. But still, she was really hoping she'd get an excuse to find clothes that actually fit her at a certain point in the near future.

Ugh, and again with the questions. Did he ever bloody stop? She tried hard to be patient with him. It wasn't like he knew, and if he did, he would have dropped it immediately. But she wasn't looking to start broadcasting such a dark moment in her past, and especially not to someone who she hadn't known for very long.

What did it even matter, anyway? It had been years since she had found anyone that she felt comfortable enough around to even attempt anything close to a relationship. Sure, he obviously noticed that she had a type. Half of fucking Thedas probably knew now, because of her stupid, girlish reaction back in Val Royeaux. Really, she had thought that she was too old to be reduced to a swoony puddle by a handsome face. The whole damned thing was stupid and she didn't appreciate being reminded of it. And it's not like anything would come of it even if they were to see each other again by some magical miracle. She truly didn't see herself letting anyone get close enough to be romantically entangled with them after what happened. And she was fairly certain that it might still be a long while before she would even want to be intimate with anyone again. Trust was a hard thing to come by to begin with. Growing up in an alienage taught her the harsh lesson that everyone was only ever out for themselves. But after what she went through, trust wasn't just rare, it seemed damn near impossible.

"Oh, come on. You definitely like a man in uniform, at least."

Skylar tried hard to focus on the tablet in her hand. She must have read the same sentence of the report about a handful of times now and she still couldn't tell you what in the void it had said yet. "That doesn't mean that I happen to fancy any of the men in uniform I've met so far."

Varric chuckled. "Right, so we're not gonna talk about how you got all doe-y-eyed back in Val Royeaux?"

"Nope."

"I did some digging, you know."

Skylar set the tablet down with a huff. She conjured a small bit of ice on her fingertips and ran it across her forehead, hoping to stave off the headache she knew was brewing. "Of course, you did."

"So, his name is Barris—"

"Andraste's ass you actually did. I thought you were bloody joking…"

Varric grew a positively mischievous grin as he continued. "He's Ferelden."

Skylar sighed heavily, resigning herself to letting him finish his spiel. "Yeah. Accent gave that away."

"Obviously, he's a templar."

"Obviously."

"But get this: the guy has dozens of medals and awards to his name. He's a real hero, so far as the order is concerned."

"Meaning he's one of their finest mage-hunters, I assume?" She deadpanned.

"Ah-ah-ah, I wouldn't write it off so quickly." He produced a set of folded pieces of official-looking paper from his jacket pocket. "Not until you read for yourself that is."

Skylar snickered incredulously. "Leliana is gonna kill you when she finds out these are missing."

" _If_ she finds out." He corrected. "Come on, you have to be curious."

She reluctantly tucked the papers in the back pocket of her jeans. "I appreciate the gesture, Varric, but I'm afraid your efforts are in vain."

"Oh, come on, what did I miss?"

"Look," she sighed, "It's never going to happen. I'm sure the handsome templar is quite the catch but I seriously doubt there's even a remote possibility now."

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself."

She shot him a glare, the deadpan tone returning to her voice again. "I was referring to the fact that we may very likely have to go to war with the templars."

"Oh, right, that." He sighed dramatically. "Well, then, I suppose I'll have to leave it to the shipping wars. Can't be helped."

"Wait…what?"

"Speaking of which: what about Curly?"

Skylar simply stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to follow the seemingly derailed train of logic the conversation had descended into. "What in the actual void are you on about?"

"You know, Curly. The Commander?"

"Uh…we've met?"

Varric chuckled heartily. "Oh, I have to write that down. The readers love the innocent ones."

"The…what?"

"Nevermind, Snowball—"

"Snowball?"

"Yes, you're Snowball: a tiny little thing of cold fury that can very easily Snowball out of control." He made a grand gesture, as if he were so pleased with himself that it should be rubbing off on her too. "Get it?"

"Right, yeah. Snowball. Clever."

"Hey, now you never answered the question."

"What bloody question?"

"About Curly. What do you think of him?"

Her eyes narrowed at him. "You're asking if I would date him, aren't you?"

"Hey, now she gets it! Not so innocent after all!"

She rolled her eyes so quickly she was concerned they might actually go completely to the back of her head. "Andraste's great flaming ass! No."

"What? Why not?"

"Oh, for fucks sake. Where do I even begin? Okay, how about we start with you ignoring that he's a married father, totally committed to his wife in probably the cutest possible way."

Varric scoffed, shaking his head. "You don't have to tell me, I had to watch that whole thing unfold. Painfully slow, I might add. But point being: the readers don't care about reality. They'll start the shipping wars regardless. If it's even remotely possible, they'll claim it's happening."

"Fucking how? I barely speak to him if it doesn't involve the Inquisition at this point."

"Yeah, but you're missing the point."

"Which is?"

"Your hair."

"Fucking what?"

"It's the same color as Curly's."

She blinked blankly at him again, wondering if he'd actually knocked a screw loose. "Blonde hair is a typical affliction for native Fereldens, yes."

"Exactly! Now, you get it."

"Nope. Not even a little."

Varric sighed. "Since the both of you have blonde hair, the internet has decided that you'll make a cute couple."

"And they collectively decided that based solely and completely on the color of our hair?"

"Yep. It's on the internet now, it must be true."

Skylar's mind literally blanked for a moment there. She was perfectly still; her eyes were fixed on the War Table in front of her. "Is this what an aneurysm feels like?"

"Should I take that as a no, then?"

She sighed heavily, running her hands over her face. She muttered a rhetorical prayer to the Maker to grant her the strength to refrain from punching the dwarf. "Look, you can tell the shippers that while Cullen surely has a multitude of finer qualities, there is zero chance of anything happening there."

"Fine, fine. But I'll have to write in a reason…?"

"If I tell you why, will you leave me the void alone?"

Varric definitely seemed offended, but shrugged non-committedly. "For now, at least."

Skylar groaned as she rolled her eyes yet again. "Fine. Let's just say that Cullen reminds me too much of…someone I would rather forget."

"Ouch. Bad Breakup, huh?"

She knew he didn't really mean it to sound so disrespectful. He still had no idea that he was stepping on an emotional landmine, after all. But she couldn't help but feel a near overwhelming rage towards him. She had to take a moment to close her eyes and calm herself. She definitely hadn't meant to have such an obvious reaction, but there it was. No brushing it off now. No hiding behind snarky comments.

Varric of course noticed that reaction. He had the decency to look apologetic, much to his credit. "Sorry, Snowball, I didn't realize…"

"I know, I know. Honestly, I try not to tell people…" She sighed, leaning her weight against the table now. "I'm fine. It just still stings a bit, you know?"

"Yeah, noted." He looked away for a moment, like he was almost ashamed to ask. "Was it…bad?"

Her expression blanked once again. But this time there was a certain hollow-ness to it that made Varric uneasy. Her words began to sound very matter-of-factly for a bit. "Pretty bad, yeah."

"Do you, uh…need to talk about it?"

"No!" She took a deep breath, calming herself temporarily by sheer force of willpower alone. "No, really. It's fine. Okay, not _fine_. But it happened years ago. Before the Conclave, I was at the point where I rarely was ever even reminded of it." She motioned bitterly to the Mark on her hand. "This damned thing apparently seems to feel the need to torment me. I get these nightmares a lot now…Sometimes it's him and…It just sort of sets me on edge for a while."

Varric nodded as he listened. He fidgeted with his sleeve as he spoke again. "You know you're safe here, right? At least from that. The Breach might start shitting demons back out at any moment though."

Skylar smiled, appreciating the fact that he at least tried to make her feel better. She held up the nearly forgotten tablet, still queued up to the report she had been trying to read. "Probably means we should get back to work, yeah?"

"I get it, I get it. No more questions today, I promise." He looked back to her before he left the make-shift War Room. "You know, Snowball, if you ever do need to talk, my door is always open."

"Thanks…Scribbles." She smirked mischievously as she watched his shocked reaction.

"Did you just…?"

"Scribbles: because you're always writing."

"Oh, ho, ho! How the tables have turned!" Varric shuffled back out into the Chantry, muttering something that sounded suspiciously close to 'Wait until Hawke hears about this!'

Once she was sure that he was far enough away, she let her eyes wander over the map to Denerim. The Arl's keep was expertly drawn as if it were the most important landmark. The Alienage wasn't pictured though, figures. Giving in to a nearly unconscious urge, she took the knife from her boot and stabbed it right through the Keep. Vainly, she hoped that it would somehow harm the Arl and his villainous excuse for a son.


	4. Chapter 4

"Left! Left! Left!" Cassandra groaned loudly, banging her fist on the dashboard as the truck all but flew passed the road she was pointing at. "You missed it!"

Cullen took his eyes off the road for only the split second he needed to shoot her a sharp glare. "I know where I'm going!"

"The map says—"

"I don't give a single shit what the map says!"

Varric sighed heavily, absently tightening his seat belt as Cullen continued to drive as fast as the truck would allow. "Mom, Dad, you're scaring the children."

Cassandra flipped around in her seat momentarily, glowering at Varric. "Shut up, dwarf!"

Varric scoffed. "Well, that's a first."

Skylar was really questioning her life choices right about now. She looked around to Varric and Dorian on either side of her to see if they shared her reaction. She couldn't be the only one in this truck who was wondering where exactly they had gone wrong to end up here.

Varric only shook his head, seemingly resigned to his fate. Dorian, on the other hand, seemed nearly unhinged. He was clinging to the door like it was his only remaining lifeline.

Skylar almost felt bad for him. He chose to side with the Inquisition only to get roped into what was beginning to look like a suicide mission, to save the bloody Templars of all things. She couldn't imagine that he'd want to stay after this, assuming they made it out at all. It was a depressing possibility; She was actually convinced that their experience had formed a unique kind of bond for a moment. They were the only ones who even knew what had happened, after all. They were the only ones to have had witnessed the horror of this 'Elder One's' victory. But she would understand if he left, at least that was what she told herself. She would be disappointed but she couldn't blame him. She wouldn't be doing any of this shit herself if she had any choice in the matter.

_But that's what heroes do, right? What even is the right thing anymore?_

At this point, Skylar was just feeling lucky that the scattered groups of these crazed templars were the only traffic they seemed to be encountering on this dark, desolate back road. Maker forbid if there were any civilians in the area. They seemed to be pretty deep in the Templar's compound now, making that possibility increasingly unlikely. But every time Cullen clipped one of the crazed templars with the truck, Skylar cringed. Cullen complained about the new dents being made, but all Skylar could hear was the sickening sound they made when they collided against the metal. She could practically hear their bones shattering.

Dorian shared an incredulous look with Skylar, thankfully taking her away from her morbid thoughts for the moment. "So, this is a standard Inquisition operation?"

Skylar shrugged, sinking further down in her seat. "I'm not really sure there's a standard Inquisition anything yet."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean 'what do I mean'?"

The incredulity quickly turned into outright offense. "Aren't you supposed to be directing this circus act?"

Skylar scoffed, hoping it would hide the fact that she was really trying not to laugh. She didn't even know why exactly. Maybe her mind was actually breaking apart now. "Yeah, right. I'm just the new girl."

Dorian seemed incapable of doing anything but blinking for a moment. His fellow passengers were genuinely concerned he suffered a stroke with the way his eye was twitching. "You're the bloody Herald of Andraste!"

"Riiiiight." Her voice was absolutely saturated in sarcasm.

"Now you've done it." Varric grumbled. He rested his head on the flat part of Bianca's handle as if he were praying. Probably for Andraste to deliver him from this situation, if Skylar had any kind of guess.

"A Herald of a _human_ goddess who—"

"Hey!" Cullen slammed his hand on the dashboard, pointing at Skylar through her reflection in the rearview mirror like one would at an unruly child. "Don't you start with that!"

Skylar nearly shot out of her seat, ready to just _fucking_ fight him. For no other reason other than he offended her. Because that was definitely not what an unruly child would have done. Her immaturity was a quickly forgotten afterthought for the moment. She still hadn't quite mentally recovered from the shit she just went through. That fight or flight mode was still lingering just barely behind the conscious thoughts in her mind. The fact that fight had seemed to win surprised even her. She was expecting herself to cower in a corner and wait for Killian to save her, just like always.

But Killian was gone. Maybe for good. She might never see her brother again. No one would be coming to save her. If she was truly alone, she was at least glad she actually had some of that infamous Tabris streak of violence when called upon.

After going through that Maker-forsaken time rift with Dorian, she was ready to sleep for the next week straight. It didn't help that the full moon was high in the sky, telling her it was late into the night without even looking at a clock. But then Cullen claimed to have suddenly gotten a message from a friend right when they climbed in the truck. The others seemed skeptical, but Skylar was inclined to believe it, given his reaction. Cullen was irritating on a few levels, but he'd never proven to be a liar. Maybe it was a trap, but Cullen certainly believed there was a genuine threat, and one they could do something about.

The templars were in trouble, he said, they wouldn't make it without their help. Skylar had half a mind to stand her ground and refuse to go with them. But it just didn't seem like a decision she would have been able to live with. Maker forbid more people died because she wanted a nap. All in the name of Andraste, of course…

She scowled at him through the rearview mirror. "Oh, now I can't even say what I want? Here I thought I wasn't a prisoner. I thought I was a 'valuable' member of the 'team'."

"Tabris! Maker help me, I swear I'll—"

"What are you gonna do? Ground me?"

A booming roar suddenly caught the attention of every disgruntled soul in that damned truck. To call this massive abomination a templar seemed equivalent to referring to an ocean as a pond. But there were, in fact, the unmistakable emblems and markings of a templar's armor hidden behind the giant red crystals protruding out of the monstrosity, just barely visible in the truck's bright headlights. There seemed to be no shred of humanity left in this thing. All the snark and rebellion left Skylar as she looked at that Maker-forsaken behemoth. It was horrifying, but she couldn't help but be saddened and somehow enraged by the sight of it. There was no question about the importance of their mission now. She knew all too well what had happened to that poor man.

_It could have been Killian…_

It was bad enough seeing her beloved brother like that in the…dark future at Redcliffe. But seeing this thing in the waking world was worse than any nightmare she'd had before. She was tired, aggravated, and just plain fucking done with it all. But this was more important than her discomfort, and even more so than her petty pride—however much she had left, that was.

"Hold on!" Cullen jerked the wheel, nearly sending the truck toppling over onto its side.

The cabin was suddenly filled with their cacophony of screams and expletives. Varric's hand shot out to cling onto the back of Cassandra's chair as he was pressed ominously against his door. "Curly?!"

"I got it!"

Skylar nearly hit the ceiling when the wheels finally came back down on the road. Her head knocked against Dorian's harshly. She attempted to verbalize a complaint but she was quickly drowned out by Cassandra.

"Right! Right! TO THE RIGHT!"

"I KNOW WHERE I'M GOING!"

Cassandra yanked the wheel to her side. There was a flash of red as the driver's side mirror snapped off violently. That behemoth roared angrily as it picked it's weighted arm up and began charging at them again. The fact that the thing appeared to be just as fast as it was powerful certainly did nothing to improve morale at the moment.

"Maker's fucking breath." Cullen shot a disgruntled glare at Cassandra as he regained control of the truck. "Varric, get back there and kill that thing!"

Varric shook his head in annoyance, but complied nonetheless. "Really, Curly? Get in the back? I wouldn't even fit through the damn window." The fact that he essentially had to crawl over Skylar to get in position didn't seemed to help either."Who puts a dwarf in the back of a truck anyway?"

Dorian scoffed, keeping his white-knuckled grip on the handle of his door. "That's like putting an Eluvian in the back of a Penske. Utter madness."

Once the small, back window opened, the horrendous sound of this blighted army washed over them like a flood. Their inhuman, distorted voices seemed to be shouting some kind of a chant. Whatever the words were, Skylar could only determine that they weren't Common. As she shuffled into Varric's old seat behind Cassandra, she briefly wondered if this was what the darkspawn were like, or if her mother had fought an even greater foe.

_Thedas better hope I'm even half as brave as she was…or at least half the warrior Killian was…_

Varric seemed undeterred, his expression making it seem as though this was just another Tuesday as he flicked on the cabin light above him. He began readying Bianca methodically, almost mechanically so.

Dorian visibly cringed, rolling his shoulder as if the action would push away whatever revelation was bothering him. "Well, that's not disturbing at all…"

"Oh, don't you worry now, Sparkler, Bianca only hurts the bad guys."

The mage rolled his eyes. "I meant the voices, you pint-sized, pencil-pusher!"

Varric grunted as he wedged his shoulders between Cullen and Cassandra's seats to steady himself. He lifted Bianca into place, giving Dorian a sideways look as he steadied his aim. "Well, it'd be a good time to plug your delicate little mage ears."

"Wait!" Skylar stopped Varric before she even knew what she was doing. The question had to be answered. She didn't know why. She couldn't even make sense of it in her head. She just knew that she needed to know. "What are they saying?"

He shot her a grave look. "You really don't want me to answer that, Herald."

Cullen jerked the truck to narrowly avoid another of the behemoth's swings. "Now, Varric!"

Varric smirked as he eyed his target. "Bianca, baby, time to introduce yourself."

The behemoth emitted an unholy whine, but seemed otherwise unaffected by the rapid bullets Varric was pelting it with. It did seem to slow it down, though. By only a few seconds, perhaps, but it was enough of a gap to give them some much needed distance from it. Their small victory was short-lived, however. The creature seemed to realize that it was losing ground and adapted quickly. It snatched a nearby tainted templar and flung the poor soul towards the truck like a tomahawk.

Varric muttered defeatedly, nothing Bianca could would slow that damned thing down. "Well, shit."

Skylar saw the roof dent in before she heard anything. After that, the next few seconds seemed to pass incredibly slow to her. The initial impact was enough force to crush the windows. Glass was sent shattering all over each of them. Suddenly the chanting was louder than ever, so much so it was nearly drowning everything else out. Her companions seemed scared or outright angry. They were all screaming. The ground seemed to shake. The wind was positively freezing as whipped past them like it too had a bone to pick with them. She tried to focus on what they were saying, only to realize that her ears were ringing too loud for that.

Varric was shooting at the behemoth again. The tainted Templar seemingly died from the event, it's smashed body was littered all over the truck bed. The behemoth raised his crystallized fist once more. Skylar was certain they wouldn't be dodging that one. Cullen was too distracted. The road was becoming far too populated with the tainted Templars to facilitate any sudden maneuvers.

_**Let the Maker guide your hand.** _

She wasn't certain where that came from. She wasn't even convinced she had actually heard that in her own head. But the voice brought with it an undeniable command. She felt compelled to do nothing but obey…but the strange thing was is that she wanted to. The voice felt helpful, it felt safe. Like it had the best of intentions and the will to make her believe it could make it happen.

_**Bring it down.** _

And somehow she knew just how to do that. Her hand stretched towards the behemoth, her palm emitting a golden glow. With an unexpectedly simple gesture the creature was thrown into the air, only to be pulled harshly back to the pavement.

There was a booming cracking sound as the behemoth's body shattered the pavement for several yards around it. The ground shook so terribly that the truck lost traction for a moment. The behemoth made no movement after that. The tainted Templars seemed to be in frenzy, but soon enough they began to sprint for a specific direction.

Now that their obstacles had begun to disperse, Skylar was able to catch a glimpse of just how close they were to this ancient keep. They were well within the shadow of it's towering walls. She absently wondered if Cullen intended to drive them right through the gate at this point, as he seemed to have no plan of stopping anytime soon.

Dorian's raspy voice just barely made it over the background sound. "It's telling them to change tactics…They're going for the cathedral!"

"There!" Cassandra pointed to what looked to be a small, barricaded side entrance. "We can cut through."

Cullen looked at her as if she had suddenly grown three extra heads. "The truck won't make it through there."

"It will get us in. It's our only chance. We won't outrun the army at this rate."

Dorian leaned forward into the space between the front seats. "You're not really suggesting we barrel through a solid door?"

Cullen shoved him back. "Buckle up and shut up, mage."

Dorian spat foreign curses at him as he sank back into his seat, seemingly reluctantly accepting his inevitable fate.

It was then that Skylar noticed Varric attempting to pick shards of glass out of his forehead. "Varric! Are you alright?"

He straightened up, now that he realized she was watching him. He gave her a weary, yet reassuring smile. "No time not to be, Snowball. Hazards of the job."

"Hold on!" Cassandra yelled to them.

The trucks engine roared louder and louder as they got closer to the side door. Skylar felt her stomach drop as the reality of what was about to happen set in. She closed her eyes tight, rolling herself into a ball and praying that they'd at least make it out of this alive.

The collision was just as harsh as she had been expecting. The airbags sprang open, much to Cullen and Cassandra's dismay. That large door splintered into pieces, along with the make shift fortifications that were posted. The truck was utterly wrecked, but it seemed that they had all survived it so far.

Cullen was the first to shove his way out of the wreckage. "Move it!"

The direction of the chants behind seem to shift towards them. Skylar didn't even bother to look before scrambling out of the truck. She was slender enough that getting around the truck's open door wasn't an issue in this hallway they'd forced themselves into. Dorian and Varric weren't quite so graceful though.

"Quickly now, they're coming!" Cassandra warned.

It was relatively distressing to hear real concern in her voice, especially directed at Varric of all people. Skylar reluctantly looked through the broken windows to see what worried the Seeker so much, and instantly wished she hadn't.

A number of the tainted Templars had evidently noticed their inspired entry. They were sprinting right toward them like they were the object of their salvation.

Dorian seemed to notice them too. He turned toward the offending enemies with a snarl. With practiced hands, he threw up a thick wall of flames behind the truck, effectively stopping the tainted Templars until they got smart enough to figure their way around it. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, staring at the flames like he was waiting for them to break through."Not on my watch."

Skylar reached for him carefully. "Dorian?"

Her fingertips just barely brushed his arm when he startled back to reality. It took only a brief moment for his typical snark to return. He pushed Skylar towards the others insistently. "I think we've worn out our welcome, wouldn't you agree, Herald?"

She brushed off his hand but walked with him. "What is going on? What are you hearing?"

Dorian shook his head, huffing a disingenuous laugh. "You'll thank me for sparing you the nightmares."

"Cullen!" Cassandra let out a loud, disgruntled grunt as she called after him. He had already taken off down the dark hallway, apparently not content to wait for the rest of them.

Varric gripped Bianca tightly and took off right after him. "Damnit, Curly, I'm not telling Hawke you died an idiot!"

Cassandra flopped her arms down to her sides defeatedly. Her weary eyes scanned over her mage charges, likely assessing their injuries as she readied her side arm. "Stay behind me."

The hallway wasn't nearly as dark as it had seemed before, just extremely dimly lit. Given the apparent age and the dust accumulated on the fixtures, it was likely not used very often, if at all. The crackling of the flames and the aggravated him of the tainted Templars bounced off the stone walls, making it always sound like they were right behind them.

At the very end appeared to be a sharp turn which Cullen had already disappeared around. Cassandra eyes their destination carefully, keeping a brisk pace and forcing her charges to follow behind her. There likely wasn't much of a danger, seeing as how Cullen must have already come through there. But the seeker didn't seem willing to take any chances.

Their caution was forced away when they heard the tainted Templars breaking through past the barricade the truck had made. Cassandra whipped around suddenly, pushing Skylar and Dorian past her. "Run! Find Cullen!"

She didn't wait for their response before she started firing. She wasn't leaving any room to argue.

_We are so utterly fucked._

_**Have faith. Bring light to the darkness.** _

Skylar would have rolled her eyes if she weren't worried it would have impeded her sprinting at break neck speed. Dorian was just barely right behind her, he was already sounding winded though. She shot him a concerned look. Neither had to say anything, not that conversation would have been an easy thing now. They had to keep moving, keep running, no matter what. She found herself praying that the lovely voice in her head continued to be helpful.


	5. Chapter 5

Perhaps the cathedral wasn't the most defensible choice for a final stand. But truly, it was the only possible choice. It was a well-kept secret that the guns and ammo were stored in the hidden vault beneath the statue of Andraste. Little did most of the daily worshipers know that their holy lady was guarding a massive stockpile of the weapons confiscated from Ferelden citizens years ago, when the Blights were declared to be a neutralized threat.

The King's decree had stated that with the darkspawn gone, the citizens had no more immediate need to defend themselves from monstrous threats, and thus no need for such weapons. Barris wasn't exactly sure he wholly supported the sentiment at the time, but Maker was he glad for it now.

The damned Reds had nearly overrun the whole compound by the time he realized what was happening. More than a few of his friends had either fallen or turned Red by now. There wasn't anything they could do to fight that army on their own now, but at least they could stop them from getting to the truly deadly weapons. They seemed efficient enough killers as it was, but if they were armed with guns? The carnage would be inconceivable…

They'd managed to secure the stockpile and arm themselves, but the Reds gave them little reprieve before they started barreling down on the doors.

He was down to a few dozen recruits. Most were wounded, no one left held any significant rank. He certainly hadn't asked for it to happen, but somehow he found himself in charge, again, in a seemingly hopeless situation. He silently wondered if this was going to become some re-occurring pattern in his life.

The Reds were beating down the doors at the north, east, and west entrances. It was all that they could do to keep them barricaded for the time being. As long as the damned Reds didn't find the hidden entrance to the escape tunnel before Cullen did, they could hold their position reasonably well for the time being. Maker, but they needed reinforcements…

He knew his message would get through. All he had to do was hold back the Reds for long enough. Cullen wouldn't let him down…assuming the inquisition wasn't already dealing with a similar situation…

"They're breaking through!"

His head snapped towards the western door. There was a considerable hole just above one of the handles. The Reds seemed to be whipped up into a frenzy over their small victory. Their chanting sounded even more energized now. Barris still didn't know what all that meant but he was certain it wasn't an Andrastian devotional.

"Hold on!" Barris grabbed the nearest two recruits and shoved them towards the staircase to the upper balconies. "Get up in the windows and take out as many as you can." He hurried around the space, arming the shaken recruits and directing them. "I want two in the windows above each entrance. You three! Keep them supplied. Take out as many of the blighters as you can."

The western door demanded his attention now as it groaned ominously. The wood was very obviously staring to buckle under the tremendous pressure.

_No more monstrous threats, my ass._ This whole plan was about to go to shit real quick if he couldn't hold the entrances. "Free hands to the west! Now!"

Only a couple of others answered his order. The rest were too damn injured to stand…he wasn't even sure a few of them were still breathing…

Even with the combined weight of 10 men stacked against it, the Reds were still steadily pressing their way through the door. That hole was getting bigger by the second, the splinters kept showering over them.

He looked around to the recruits around him. They were all bloodied, each of them had varying degrees of hopelessness in their eyes. A couple of them seemed young, probably still in their teenage years. He wished he had something inspirational to say, but he wasn't sure he even had any spare breath left. All he could do was lead by example now. Maybe, just maybe, if he didn't relent, the others wouldn't either.

If Cullen didn't get here in time…at least he'll know they made the Reds work for it.

He only just barely heard the recruit next to him praying above the noise of their eminent demise. "Andraste have mercy on your Templars…guide us to your side…"

The hole was now big enough for it to become a true problem. The Reds reached through it, their tainted claws grasping desperately to scratch at them. Barris tried hard to block out the pain he was distinctly feeling in his shoulder. It wouldn't much matter if he was about to die anyway…

_Maker, I hope I've done enough to earn a place at your side…_

He genuinely thought he was hallucinating when Cullen seemingly appeared in front of him. The relief he felt quickly died as he registered the look on his face. It had been years since he last saw him like that…right after the fall of Kinloch.

They were going to fall too, he thought, just like that damn Circle tower.

Cullen had saved his life back then, by ordering him to get the apprentices out. Barris was too new to the order and far too young to charge into the real battle, he had said. It was only because he and the other recruits were on the lowest level that they were able to retreat to the entrance. Cullen might not save either of them today, given the desperate circumstance, but Barris would remember to be grateful that he had tried.

Cullen seemingly launched himself towards Barris. He expected him to take a place next to him, but instead he ripped him from his position. Barris hadn't realized how weak he was until then. He collided with a nearby pillar like a bloody rag doll.

It took considerable effort to get back to his feet, blinking a sudden bit of blurriness out of his vision. He only barely registered Cullen barking orders at someone, at everyone maybe.

He leaned against the pillar heavily, wondering absently just how messed up he was…because it clearly was more than he had thought originally. He closed his eyes, focusing on breathing as he slowly brought his hand up to his shoulder to assess the damage.

"No! No! NO!"

He'd heard that voice before…where? It sounded…lovely…

He suddenly felt someone slap his hand away. Slender hands gripped his shoulders cautiously and lowered him to the floor. He forced his eyes to pry back open.

Seeing the Herald hovering over him was definitely not doing anything to convince him that he wasn't hallucinating. Maker, but she was still drop dead gorgeous, even in her current state. The rips, tears and blood spattered over her clothing made it seem as though she'd only just come from another battle. Odd, that's not how he would have thought he'd remember her in his last moments. She was such a visual comfort, he was certain her current purpose was serving as a benevolent guide to Andraste's side. She seemed utterly distressed. Her breathing was so uneven she was damn near hyperventilating. Her eyes were wildly darting all over, seemingly assessing the damage for herself.

He reached up towards her. He wasn't even sure why, to be perfectly honest. Perhaps he just needed to prove to himself that she was, in fact, really there.

"Don't move!" She shoved him back to the floor harshly. She regarded his shoulder gravely. Her gaze snapped around room, probably looking for help. But help wasn't possible judging from the solemn look on her face.

Seeing her so stressed over his condition was far more bothersome than whatever had happened to his shoulder, than whatever was making him so damned weak suddenly. He could seemingly think nothing but depressing thoughts of self-doubt and hopelessness. It would be better if she didn't have to worry about him. "Just let me go, Herald…"

Her eyes flashed back to him. There was an abrupt, fiery sense of determination in them. So much resolve, he felt himself inspired by just the sight of it. Her hand shot out towards his shoulder in what appeared to be a hasty decision on her part.

There was an immediate, immense pain as she forcefully dislodged whatever object was stuck within his shoulder. The moment the object left him, it was like life rushed back into him. His lungs quickly filled with air, strength returned to his muscles, the fogginess fled from his mind. He only caught a brief glimpse of the jagged red crystal as she chucked it as far away from them as she could manage.

She cradled her hand, clenching it closed. It was burned, he realized. It was only then that his mind caught up to what she had just done. Had she not helped him…had she not been there…it was a grim outcome far too disturbing to even consider. He'd rather die a horrible, painful death than become Red.

He shot upright, reaching out to help her. How, he didn't know, but he just knew he had to bloody well try. He attempted to open her injured hand but she stopped him gently.

"I'll be fine." She muttered, offering an unconvincing smile to reassure him.

He searched her expression carefully, trying to assess just how much she was downplaying it for his benefit. "Are you sure?"

"Nothing is sure with this red shit." She snarled at the direction she'd thrown the crystal. "How long was it in there?"

"I…not long, I think. I wasn't exactly counting the minutes."

She nodded knowingly. There was a tortured look in her eyes as she brought her attention back to him. When her eyes landed on his shoulder again, she seemed to come back to the situation. "I don't suppose there's bandages laying around here?"

Barris shook his head somberly. "The hospital was one of the first buildings to fall."

"Figures." She reluctantly dug her nails into the seam of her sleeve and ripped it from her shirt. She moved mechanically as she tied it roughly around his shoulder. "I doubt it will be enough to stop the bleeding but maybe it will hold it together for a little longer."

She winced when she pulled the knot tight. She clenched her injured hand again, apparently trying to shake off the discomfort.

"Oh, that is so going in the book."

They both looked up to see a dwarf sauntering over towards them from the staircase. He held a rifle that seemed almost too large for him over his shoulder. The Herald shot the dwarf a disgusted look as she got to her feet and stomped away from him. "You and your fucking book."

She seemed to take a deep breath when she turned away from them. She stopped in front of the towering statue of Andraste. Barris assumed she was taking a moment to herself. 

Barris had a mind to chew out that damned dwarf for upsetting her but he wasn't sure he grasped the entirety of the situation yet. Maker, but this whole was definitely not helping this growing obsession. He briefly questioned if he wasn't actually crazy already. He didn't even get a chance to address the dwarf before more drama erupted in front of him.

"Tabris!" Cullen marched right over to the Herald, snatching up her injured hand. "Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

The Herald jerked away from him violently. Her marked hand had an unmistakable icy aura around it. Her expression was harder to decipher from the angle he was at, but there was nothing about her demeanor that was anything close to friendly.

"Probably not the best move, Curly." The dwarf warned.

Barris suddenly realized that everyone was a little too calm for the door breaking into the splinters. It was only then that he noticed the mage hurriedly constructing massive, fiery barriers over the entrances. The west and north doors had been taken care of already, and the east was nearly finished as well.

It didn't escape his notice that the mage's attire was definitely from Tevinter. Whether he was actually from there or a damned foreign idealist was going to have to be a question for another time. For now he was helping them. Magister or no, he certainly wasn't one of the Reds, so that made him an ally for the moment. Barris wasn't confident those barriers would be a permanent solution, but they would certainly hold strong enough so long as the mage didn't lose focus. With the doors finally warded properly, the winded mage began to make his way up the staircase. He kept most of his weight on the wall as he trudged slowly, step by step. That was probably a good idea, on the mage's part, Barris thought, the balcony would be the best place for him to concentrate and stay out of the way.

"He was turning _fucking_ Red! What did you want me to do?!"

_Makers fucking breath, I did not need to hear that._ Barris had to walk away from that conflict for a moment. He had always been able to compartmentalize his emotions in stressful situations but this threat of becoming Red was still so new. He hadn't quite worked out how to quickly pack that particular fear away yet.

He passively checked over the recruits as he walked. There didn't seem to be any new casualties to manage, which was a small relief. No significant new injuries, either. It wasn't much considering the Inquisition's army clearly hadn't arrived yet. But at this point, Barris was ready to call that a victory.

Cullen seemed positively enraged. "You shouldn't have done anything! Do you have any idea how stupid that was?!"

"Well, you know, just be glad I decided against the marked hand." The Herald snarked back.

Barris nearly snickered there despite himself. He hadn't ever enjoyed dark humor, but if there was a place and time for it, here and now seemed as good as any.

He shuffled towards the east door, intent on inspecting the barrier. But something truly unsettling caught his attention before he reached his destination.

The barriers over the doors seemed to block out most of the Reds cacophony outside. With the outside noise dulled, the sounds coming from the entrance to the tunnel was suddenly, painfully noticeable.

Cullen towered over her, pointing his finger heatedly at her like a disciplining father. "You're supposed to be fixing the fucking Breach, not pulling red lyrium out of an open wound!"

"Oh!" The Herald huffed a bitter laugh. "So I should have just ignored him, huh? I'm so sorry I wasn't raised to be a heartless bitch."

With the discovery of their new security issue, Barris quickly lost patience with their bickering. They'd simply have to sort it out later…assuming they did, in fact, survive this day…

"That's enough!"Barris shoved himself between the two of them. "Listen!"

Precise, controlled gunshots echoed throughout the old stone walls, overlapped by the unmistakable grunts and groans of the damned Reds. There was a distinctly human outcry before the renewed frenzy of the Reds overwhelmed the tunnel again.

"Cass!" The Herald screamed.

The sheer horror in her eyes nearly broke his heart right then and there, but this was no time to be falling apart. He learned early on that stopping to mourn the dead would likely lead you to join them shortly.

Barris marched mechanically over to the gate, attempting to slam it closed. "Make ready!"

"No!" The Herald suddenly shoved the gate back up, with a surprising amount of strength coming from such a petite person. "She'll make it!"

"You can't know that, Herald." He said as gently as he could. He tried to close it but she stopped him again, more forcefully this time.

"Wait for her!"

"We can't."

"Please…"

Maker damn him straight to the void if he could ever ignore her looking at him all teary-eyed like that. He knew he wasn't the cause of it but falling on his sword was preferable to adding to her suffering. It was woefully apparent that he was utterly insane now. This woman would be the death of him, he was certain of it. But Maker, it sounded like a good way to go.

The Reds surged through the tunnel like a blighted tidal wave. They moved so damn quick, he barely managed to pull the Herald out of the way in time.

The seeker's body was thrown violently towards them. The Herald shrieked at the sight, whether out of fear or anger or both, Barris wasn't entirely sure.

That dwarf was already laying down cover fire from the staircase before Barris could bark an order. The others instantly followed without question. Barris pushed the Herald behind him, trying to put distance between her and the Reds. But they all focused in on her like a homing missile.

She threw a thick wall of ice over the tunnel's entrance. The Reds still in the tunnel banged against it relentlessly. The ice began to crack with seconds but at least it served to control the battlefield by a small measure.

It didn't seem to matter how hard or how fast the rest of them attacked the Reds, they were still intent on swarming the Herald like a plague of locusts.

The Herald made a wide gesture, imbuing their weapons with a temporary frosty enchantment before taking off, leading the Reds on an erratic chase through the many inconvenient obstacles within the cathedral.

Just when they thought they had this fight controlled properly, the icy wall shattered. And soon they were overwhelmed again. The Reds made damn sure to trap the Herald, preventing her from getting near the tunnel again.

For every one that they took down, another two emerged from the tunnel. Even despite the slowing effects their weapons and bullets had against their enemies now, their numbers just too greatly overshadowed their own. And that maker-forsaken chanting was deafeningly loud now…

It seemed they were down to only a handful of front line fighters besides Cullen and himself. And that number seemed to be fading all too quickly. Barris tried to push harder, to see this through. But with every passing second, it was becoming harder and harder to see a way out of this.

A tremendous force suddenly charged through their ineffective front line. It was the Lord Seeker, or what was left of him. He moved at an unnatural speed as he snatched up the Herald, emitting a truly unholy laugh.

She didn't even scream, and somehow that was far more frightening than anything. It seemed she didn't even have time to. She seemed entirely frozen in place. She stopped blinking, even the loose strands of her hair were stuck in the exact position they had been in the moment he touched her. The Lord Seeker's hand around her throat threatened to either kill or corrupt her.

_**Help her! Save her!** _

That voice sounded like an absolute divine commandment and Barris was not about to argue with it. Hearing voices in ones head typically depicted insanity. But right now, he was fully ready to believe it was a holy order from Andraste herself.

The world couldn't lose her. He'd never forgive himself if she died trying to save the templars. It would be his failure. He couldn't afford to fail. He couldn't lose her to this.

He moved as quick as his body could manage. And when that wasn't enough he pushed himself harder. One more second in that monsters grasp was a tragedy he would not let her endure.

With a careful but powerful swing of his bastard sword, he sliced right through the Lord Seeker's neck. His head fell to the floor with an unceremonious thud. His grip on the Herald released instantly. She collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath. He reached for her and she clung to his arms like a life-raft. She scrambled to her feet quickly but she suddenly became rigid, her head rolled limply in front of her.

The Reds let out a collective screech. With the fall of their master, their frenzy became utterly disorganized. Most of them tried to flee back down the tunnel, making them easy targets. The rest were so confused that they offered little further resistance.

When Barris turned his attention back to the Herald he was met with a truly unsettling sight. She was nearly unrecognizable. She was surrounded by this golden aura. Her eyes were enveloped by an even brighter gold. Maker damn him straight to the void if she wasn't the literal and absolute embodiment of Andraste.

Her next actions did nothing to disprove that assumption either. She regarded her marked hand inquisitively for a short moment before thrusting it outwards away from them.

There was a horrendous tearing sound that filled the room before an equally hideous creature appeared along with a sliver of green light seemingly suspended in the air behind it. The creature was clearly just as confused and frightened just as the Reds now were.

"Envy." The Herald accused, her voice now a distorted mix of two separate tones combined in one. "I will have justice."

Barris was positively shocked. He was absolutely certain that she spoke with the same voice he had heard in his own head only moments earlier. It definitely wasn't the Herald's normal voice. And this definitely wasn't her normal demeanor. He had to be hallucinating now…

The creature hissed in response, skittering around like a caged animal. The Herald picked up the Lord Seeker's sword. Her touch seemingly cleansed the blighted thing in holy fire. She wielded the flaming sword like it was second nature. The creature acted as if it was utterly powerless against her. It it just sat there snarling at her as it waited for her swift judgement. She brought the sword above it's hideous head and slammed it down, sticking the point into the floor. The creature dissipated back into the green light and with a simple gesture of her marked hand, even that faded from existence.

It seemed that Barris wasn't the only one enraptured by the spectacle in front of him. Even Dorian was staring in utter shock from the balcony now that he was safely able to break concentration.

The Herald looked around solemnly at the severe casualties they had suffered. Her eyes closed for a moment, her arms opened wide and lifted slowly as she spoke. "Fallen Defenders. Warriors of the Light. Blessed Champions of the Just…Rise."

There was a sudden mass of gasps and yelps as the once dead templars rose from the dead, each of them slowly climbing to their feet once again. They seemed disoriented but otherwise in perfect health. Their eyes were fixed on the Herald the moment they re-opened.

Barris was nearly beside himself. He watched the wound in his shoulder seal. The thin scar left behind was the only evidence he had that any of this truly had happened. The shock of witnessing her perform a miracle right before his eyes and the relief of knowing that the order wasn't totally decimated was more than enough to send him reeling. No amount of compartmentalizing was going to get him through this unscathed.

But they had yet to see the extent of her work it seemed. The doors creaked open simultaneously as more and more revived templars shuffled into the cathedral. She hadn't just saved those within the room, every Templar that had fallen to the Reds here on the compound were now making their way to rejoin their fellows. Even the Seeker silently made her way to the Herald. Cullen found a place beside him and then Rylen and soon the cathedral was packed full.

"Hear me." She commanded. "I speak with the authority and blessing of our Lady. I am the Herald of Andraste."

In that moment, that title finally felt as though it had real weight to it. It was real, not just something the Inquisition coined for publicity. Barris was seeing it for himself. He couldn't imagine anyone seeing this and questioning it. His faith was affirmed. Andraste did answer prayers…

He felt compelled to kneel before his goddess, to wait for her holy mandate. The others followed suit quickly after. He had hoped they would, she deserved nothing less. She'd saved them, she'd heard their cries for help, she'd rewarded their devotion. The Herald was Andraste's will made manifest. He could do nothing short of following her straight into the void itself.

Her expression softened considerably when she looked over her flock. There was a warm smile on her face. Much like the look that communicates the feeling of absolute, unconditional love.

"My lady," Barris asked with reverence. "What would you ask of your templars?"

She focused her heavenly gaze upon him. He felt as though she saw completely through him yet still accepted every piece of him. Her presence was an undeniable source of comfort and confidence. When she spoke, he felt goosebumps wash over him.

"I have been sent to remind you of your sacred duty. Andraste willed her templars to be the shield against dark magic. Righteous warriors defending Thedas from magical threats. But there are many of your former brethren who have betrayed the order. Tainted it. Defiled it. Corrupted it from its holy purpose. You have been led astray. You have been asked to endure much. But know that your prayers are not ignored. Andraste is with you. I am with you. And I ask that you uphold your duty. I ask that you join my Inquisition and rebuild under my banner. Together we can close this wicked Breach for good. Together we can be stronger."

There was no going back from this, he thought. The rest of his life would be spent in total dedication to the order. A life spent in her service sounded like the right thing to do, the only thing to do.

The Herald slowly turned to Cullen. She extended her hand, resting it on his head. She spoke softly to him, instead of projecting her voice to the crowd. "Wounded soul, the Maker does not punish hasty words spoken in rage. You have suffered greatly, yet your actions serve as a testament to your character. There is nothing to forgive. Do not doubt yourself, my warrior. Have courage. Have faith. Remember why you fight."

Cullen seemed completely overcome with emotion. His breath came in ragged pants. His eyes watered. Barris reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. Cullen's story was no secret amongst the order. It was passed around often as a cautionary tale of the dangers they faced everyday. It was truly heartwarming to know that Andraste hadn't overlooked it. Perhaps it all happened for a reason. Perhaps this was all apart of the Maker's divine plan.

The moment seemed to break when the northern doors suddenly burst open behind her. Heavily armed soldiers flooded the room, lowering their weapons quickly when they grasped the situation.

Barris recognized the woman leading them, the Left Hand of the Divine. The Inquisition's army must have finally caught up to them. The Herald turned calmly toward her, giving her an encouraging smile as she acknowledged her.

Leliana appeared to be just as shocked as the rest of them. She opened her mouth to speak but she seemed only capable of ordering the soldiers through gestures. The soldiers backed off considerably. Barris could pick out the Andrastians among them just from their reactions; they knelt along with the templars, despite their orders.

"Will you join me, my warriors?" The Herald looked back down at Barris directly. "Will you fight with us?"

The templars collectively cheered in agreement. The energy that filled the room was palpable. The Herald seemed positively pleased with them. She smiled down at Barris once more before that glow faded abruptly.

The Herald's body went limp, as if her weight had suddenly become too much for her body to handle. She stumbled towards him and Barris rose up quickly to catch her. Her head rolled against his chest. She was breathing, but totally unconscious.

Leliana moved swiftly to his side, speaking just slightly louder than normal. "Ah, yes, Lady Herald, you've had such a trying day. I'm certain Ser Barris would be happy to help you to your transport."

She gave him a pointed look. It had been a long time since he was forced to learn about to intricacies of the Grand Game but he remembered just enough to understand her plan. If the Herald was truly adversely affected from…well, whatever it was she just did, it definitely wouldn't serve the templars well to know that.

"Of course. Lead the way, please." He responded simply. Better to get her away from this public venue as quickly as possible.

He lifted her properly into his arms, keeping her face well hidden from the others. Leliana discreetly folded the Herald's arms in a way that seemed as if she were casually relaxing.

Leliana acknowledged her colleagues so warmly, Barris was positive it was a engineered reaction. "Seeker, Commander. I trust you can direct the templars back to Haven?"

Cassandra seemed to have trouble forming her words. Upon noticing it, Cullen spoke up to take the attention off of her. "We'll take it from here. Just make sure the Herald gets some rest."

Leliana shot a very short, suspicious look at Cassandra. As she spun around towards the door she whispered to Cullen. "Manage this."

She flashed Barris a warm smile not a moment later, as if nothing ever happened. He suddenly remembered why he hated the nobility.

"Follow me, Ser Barris. We have a long ride ahead of us."

The soldiers parted for them without being told to. Most of them bowed their heads respectfully. Barris wished the Herald would have been able to see that. She deserved recognition for her heroic deeds. He absently wondered if they were going to put her in the chant now.

Leliana set a brisk pace, forcing Barris to keep up. He shifted the Herald in his arms to keep her head from bouncing too harshly. There was a car waiting with tinted windows at the end of this path Leliana carved through the army. The ground still hadn't been cleared from the recent battle. Stepping around the bodies and the debris was no small task itself.

"Hey."

He was so focused on navigating his footing that he hadn't noticed that the Herald had woken up. He stopped in his tracks, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward. "Hey."

_This is the damn Herald you idiot, you don't have a right to be so informal!_

She smiled weakly at him, her voice was groggy. "Did you get him?"

Leliana whipped around, glaring daggers at him. She snapped her head towards the car.

Barris ignored her for the moment. The Herald asked a question, the Left Hand would simply have to wait. It suddenly dawned on him that she must not have even remembered what happened. "Of course, My Lady. I killed him myself."

Leliana stomped her way over to them, tugging Barris along by the sleeve. The Herald didn't seem to react to her, or anything else around them actually. Her eyes appeared heavy again. "Good. She wanted you to."

He couldn't help but stare at her as she faded back into unconsciousness. Trying to interpret her meaning had his mind racing. _She? Andraste?_ It felt naive to believe that he had been chosen somehow. But there seemed to be no other explanation.

Barris had never been very devout. It was hard to buy into the rhetoric after being forced into the Templar ranks for being 'inconvenient, as his father had put it, while still firmly in the middle of his own angsty teenager phase. He memorized the chant like he was told to, but really it always just felt like empty stories meant to control the masses. But after today…after meeting the Herald, seeing her perform a miracle…it was enough to make a believer out of anyone.


	6. Chapter 6

An icy mist surrounded her. The ache in her joints made her feel as though she had been waltzing through the cold night for hours, at least. Her bare feet were quickly becoming numb to the sensation. Her nails collected moss from the stony ground beneath them as she wiggled her toes—just to reassure herself that they were still attached. A shiver ran through her whole body violently. The goosebumps that formed on her naked arms were so intense they were almost painful.

_Why am I out here?_

There was a distant sound of waves angrily crashing upon rocks, a near-constant shriek of the wind whipping by her. The air around her felt charged. As if the environment were expecting something terrible to happen at any moment. She vainly wished Killian were with her, but she knew in the very depth of her soul that she was completely alone in this place. The feeling of vast empty space around her was unsettling but the obvious isolation was utterly disturbing.

_What am I doing?_

When she slowly brought her gaze up, she realized this mist to be nothing more than a wholly natural, moonlit fog that stretched throughout this forest clearing…but how did she get here?

_Where in the actual void even is ‘here’?_

Her rational thoughts started coming back to her. She must have been in the woods near Haven…right? Where else would she be? Theirinfall…when did she leave? How did she leave? The realization that she seemed to have lost time did nothing to calm her frightened mind. She tried hard to focus her thoughts. She had to make sense of this, she had to remember.

_That monster…_

The Lord Seeker…or what was left of him. Her hand reflexively shot up to her neck, feeling the indents where he gripped her with those damned claws. That evil stare of his was burned into her memory. In fact, it was, unfortunately, the last thing she clearly remembered…She was either dead or in the fade…or both, honestly. The fade wasn’t totally foreign to her, but she had always tried to stick to the most familiar places. She was keenly aware that she wasn’t skilled enough to face most of the dangers lurking around the dark corners beyond the veil. Her mother used to help her navigate her way around her dreams as a kid…but the Archdemon took her. Now there was no one left to teach her, to hold her hand and guide her. Just another bitter reminder of how alone she truly was.

The mark suddenly flared violently, forcing its green light to reflect off the mist. She stared down at it strangely. If it hadn’t had been so bright, she wouldn’t have noticed it at all. A flare like that had typically been followed closely by extreme pain. But she felt nothing. She watched as it flared twice more and then began to rapidly spread apart in vicious tendrils. In a matter of seconds, it had engulfed her entire arm. She clawed at her chest in vain, hoping to stop it somehow. Even then she felt no pain, but she just knew it was trying to consume her.

She was so panicked she hadn’t noticed it at first, but she was slowly becoming aware of the sounds now coming out of the forest. It was the chanting. Pure dread shot right through her. Indistinct figures began to appear around her in the mist. Each of them surrounded by an angry, red glow.

No sound came from her no matter how loud she tried to scream. She felt frozen in place. As if the bitter wind had solidified her legs. Hopelessness fell over her like a weighted blanket.

_**Steel your heart.** _

The voice was startling but oddly comforting, given the circumstance. She whipped her head around towards it. She felt like she should have recognized that golden figure, like she’d seen her before…

The chanting suddenly became louder, the figures moved closer. The green fissures in her skin changed to that corrupted red in the blink of an eye. The hopelessness was compounded with despair. It got heavier and heavier with every shaky breath she took.

_**Answer the injustice. Burn them all.** _

The figures descended upon her frantically. But the voice compelled her through the fear, simultaneously coaching her and encouraging her. Blue flames erupted from her hands as she threw them up defensively. The figures dissipated one by one, the mist growing thinner with each vanquished foe. Soon the mist faded completely. The forest clearing quickly became illuminated by the rising sun.

The icy feeling melted away. Her immobility vanished. The missing memories of the time she lost flooded back. The mark suddenly showed no signs of being tampered with in the first place. Her mind began to swim with questions, trying to make sense of it all. It was all too much…no, this was just insane. No way any of that happened. No way any of that was real…right?

A sudden, intense feeling of falling overcame her. The mossy stones beneath her bare feet were replaced with nothingness. The air left her lungs momentarily, only to be forced right back in when she hit the ground. No…not the ground…a mattress? Her mattress? She breathlessly studied her new surroundings, feeling utterly stupid when she recognized her bedroom. She was just in her apartment, safe and sound in Haven. No big bad monsters, or creepy foggy forest. It was just a nightmare.  
Everything was exactly where it should have been. Despite it still being dark, it felt totally warm and welcoming. Skepticism was still lingering in her mind though. She conjured a ball of light to illuminate the room properly for a moment, just to ensure everything was as it seemed. It was only when she checked every object and corner for anything irregular that she calmed herself down slowly.

She slumped back against her headboard, leaving the ball of light hovering near her ceiling. Absently, she ran her fingers up to her neck, trying to reassure herself of her own overreaction. But when she brushed over the indents from the Lord Seeker’s claws, all those lovely reassurances flew right out the window. It was real…

“Fuck.” She muttered aloud, partially just to prove that she could speak again. She let out a relieved sigh, musing about how good it felt to hear her own voice. Her mind began replaying what happened at Theirinfall…she could barely believe it. Knowing that she was clearly possessed momentarily was so unsettling, she only vaguely registered that she probably would have been a swooning mess otherwise. It would have totally been the wrong setting to be tripping over herself in front of a really misguided crush, but she was certain she would have managed it somehow.

_Thank the Maker for small miracles, right?_

She tried hard to focus her thoughts logically, mostly to keep herself from spiraling into a self-depreciating mood. It happened. It was…weird, to say the least. But it worked? Maybe that was all that mattered. She was safe, she was fine. Just a dumb nightmare…and a really crazy day… She turned her hand over, examining the mark and wondering if she should just get used to it now. The nightmares were probably going to be a nightly problem now. At least they weren’t about _that bastard_ anymore. She was suddenly immensely grateful for the view from her window. When her traumatic nightmares plagued her in the alienage, she’d wake up and see the Arl’s maker-forsaken estate looming over them all. Which, of course, did absolutely nothing to calm her down. But now, she overlooked the town of Haven. Her new home. Her fresh start.

As she looked around her empty room again, she couldn’t help but wish her brother were there with her. Killian’s presence always served to put her mind at ease. If anything bad happened, he’d deal with it—however he had to. He was always the strong one, always the reliable one. Maker, what she wouldn’t give to find him now. After all this time in prison, he deserved to find his own fresh start too…assuming he was even still alive…

She nearly jumped out of her skin when her phone suddenly went off. The screen brightly lit up the room like the light of dawn itself, somehow dwarfing the ball of light she still had hanging by the ceiling. She angrily snatched the offending device from her side table, having half a mind to chuck the thing out the window.

The screen unlocked swiftly as she brought it up to her face. She rolled her eyes at it. Of course, it would be all to happy to work properly when she didn’t want it to. It pulled up the message that triggered the notification.

**Lady Stabs-A-Lot 🔪🔪🔪:** Meet me in the War Room

Skylar glared at the message. She flicked her eyes up to the clock in the corner. It was still hours before sunrise. No way she was getting out of bed to go trudging across Haven in the middle of the night. Leliana may have put the fear of the nightingale in everyone else, but Skylar still remembered the naïve, aspiring singer who used to follow her mother around like her protégé. Before she could formulate a snarky refusal, a muted chime altered her that she’d received another message.

**Lady Stabs-A-Lot 🔪🔪🔪:** Now

This was ridiculous. If the world was ending, again, she wouldn’t be sending a text message. How did Leliana even know she was awake anyway? Skylar switched the phone on silent mode and dropped it unceremoniously onto her side table again. She hadn’t even grabbed onto her blanket again before more messages popped up in rapid fire. The notifications chimed again and again despite it being set to silent mode. Skylar absently wondered if this was what the void felt like.

**Lady Stabs-A-Lot 🔪🔪🔪:** It’d be a shame if something happened to that Xbox

Her eyes snapped over to the direction of her entertainment center in her living room. She brought the ball of light to hover over it so she could verify that it was in fact safe in it’s proper place. Skylar’s hand shot over to the phone, her fingers rapidly pounding against her screen in anger.

  
**Snowball:** Be a shame to re-arrange your face…  


  
**Lady Stabs-A-Lot 🔪🔪🔪:** You have 10 minutes  


  
**Snowball:** Ginger bitch  


  
**Lady Stabs-A-Lot 🔪🔪🔪:** 9.5 ❤️  


  
**Snowball:** 👊🏻👊🏻👊🏻👊🏻  


Skylar let out a defeated grunt as she threw the covers off of her. If this turned out to be something political or fashion related, she might actually have to light her on fire.  
She trudged over to her closet, digging through the hangers looking for her favorite shirt. But the damned thing was nowhere to be found. She silently cursed herself for being so disorganized until she realized she’d been wearing it at Theirinfall…she’d torn off the sleeve, the thing must have been in tatters…but why wasn’t she still wearing it…and who in the fuck put her in pajamas?!

  
**Snowball:** Did you fucking undress me?!  


  
**Lady Stabs-A-Lot 🔪🔪🔪:** Irrelevant  


  
**Snowball:** Irrelevant, my ass!  


  
**Lady Stabs-A-Lot 🔪🔪🔪:** You have no ass  
**Lady Stabs-A-Lot 🔪🔪🔪:** 7.5 ❤️  
**Lady Stabs-A-Lot 🔪🔪🔪:** 🎮🔨  


  
**Snowball:** 🤬🤬🤬  



	7. Chapter 7

This was embarrassing. Standing in a cafeteria, no matter how ‘modern’ and ‘corporate’ they tried to make it look, was making Skylar feel like she was back in high school. No one wants to be reminded of high school. No one. Especially someone who ended up being seen as the local victim to throw a pity party around.

Skylar took a silent, calming breath, trying to remember that Leliana thought this was important enough to threaten her prized possession over. Her mission—that she was volunteered for—was to make herself noticeable around the templars. She was to eavesdrop on their conversations if she could, but Leliana primarily wanted to observe their reactions. Apparently she was convinced there was a “small minority” of templars who absolutely despised Skylar and resented their recruitment into the Inquisition. Seemed like an inconsequential problem to her but, that’s probably why she was the Herald and not the Spymaster. 

Maybe the reasoning was legitimate, but it didn’t make the situation any less awkward. Everyone already seemed to have their designated places to sit, their little groups already filled to capacity. Totally not at all like high school.  
She tried to seem casual and calm as she aimlessly wandered through the tables. But she was rapidly coming to the end of the room and she still hadn’t found any success. Which was of course doing wonders for that lovely little bit of social anxiety that was creeping up again. 

_You’re the damned Herald, for fucks sake.  
Herald of awkwardness, apparently.  
Oh, get over it. No one is gonna refuse you a seat. _

That logic was immediately debunked by the obvious glares she was getting from a table of previous circle mages. 

_Funny. They didn’t seem so bitchy when they were begging for the Inquisition to swoop in and save them.  
And to think, I almost joined them.  
Dodged a fucking bullet there.  
More like a massive explosion.  
Too soon!_

She tried to move on as casually as she could. But she was utterly convinced there was something awkward in her movements that people would be making fun of for years to come. She was about to give up and dart for the exit when she spotted Cullen sitting at a small table in the corner…with Barris. 

_Well shit._

Neither of them seemed to be paying attention to what was happening in the rest of the room for the moment. Much to her relief. She was ready to take that as a divine sign that this whole thing was a total disaster, but Cullen happened to notice her. He gave her a friendly smile but turned back to their conversation.

Well, now she was stuck. If she ran away after that, Cullen would definitely know something was up. And Maker damn that man straight to the void if he wouldn’t hound after that like a mabari. Skylar wasn’t all too keen on the idea of having to spill the beans about suspicious templars to him anyway. He’d probably get all offended and it would just turn into another shouting match. He seemed like he was in a good mood for once, too. If anyone was going to spoil that, Skylar was going to make sure it was Leliana. Not that she was being petty or anything.

She summoned whatever courage she had stored away and waltzed over to their table. Cullen wouldn’t really be that mean to her, right? She tried hard to seem unbothered, praying that she pulled it off effectively. “Room for one more?”

Barris was shocked to see the Herald standing at their table, sheepishly holding her lunch tray. He was about to stammer out something that was close to ‘yes, of course’, but he got distracted—momentarily, but enough to give him pause. He wasn’t certain if she had intended to dress up for someone but she definitely was making an impression on him. Her shirt was tight, it left no curve to the imagination despite the long sleeves that hooked over her thumbs. Given that she’d worn something similar the previous two times that he’d seen her, he was wholly convinced that this was the entirety of her wardrobe. Or that she was just doing this to torment him.

Most men would have been staring if she were wearing full armor, but to put herself on display like that…Maker, was she insane? Did she really expect him to have a proper conversation like that? Theirinfall was different, at least there was a battle to focus on. But here in the chantry’s cafeteria he had nothing to distract him. Thankfully Cullen—who definitely noticed where Barris’s eyes went—answered before the pause got awkward.

“Of course, Herald. You needn’t ask.” He nodded politely as he pulled the third chair out for her.

They were situated in the far corner of the large room in an effort to prevent being interrupted half a dozen times or blatantly eavesdropped on. It wasn’t as if they usually discussed matters of security and secrecy here but still, the constant behavior wears on a person. The Herald was a welcome distraction, Barris decided. Even despite—or perhaps, because of—the shirt. She damn near took his breath away in Val Royeaux. She’d done nothing but continue to surprise and impress him since that moment…And after hearing her speak at Theirinfall, there was no doubt in his mind that she was the true Herald of Andraste. He’d serve her for as long as she would allow.

“Thanks.” She breathed a relieved sigh as she took her seat.

Cullen chuckled as he took another bite of his monstrous cheeseburger. “If you want to slum it with the grunts, I’m certainly not going to stop you.”

Skylar scoffed; her annoyance evident on her face. “Trust me, I’m in the best possible company right here.”

A smile twitched at the corner of Barris’s mouth. His thoughts threatened to run wild with that until he happened to notice that there were in fact a few other tables with empty spots…some of them were mages, he’d even recognized a few of them from Kinloch Hold. They sneered in Skylar’s direction as they carried on a conversation that was probably definitely disrespecting her in some manner. Barris had a mind to lay into them but it certainly wouldn’t do for the Herald to have to witness that kind of a display.

Cullen’s expression grew concerned. “The mages aren’t giving you trouble, are they?”

“No, no…I mean, they’re pretty pissed obviously. Not that they really have a leg to stand on—considering they weren’t the one that had to make a fucking decision regarding the entirety of Thedas or anything—but it’s whatever, really. Just all those snide whispers and stupid shit like that. But that’s fine. It’s not like I lost anything there. Most of them resented me to begin with.” She shrugged as she picked at her fries.

Barris nearly laughed when he heard such vulgar words come out of her. During stressful situations, it was second nature to most people. But knowing now that it’s just another part of her personality was surprising to say the least, but oddly comforting. She was the Herald of their prophetess, yet still just a normal person too. “If not the mages, then what troubles you?”

As she turned her pale green eyes to him, he said a silent prayer that he hadn’t somehow overstepped some boundary. Which was pretty stupid, honestly. He’d spoken to her a handful of times before, of course. But that was, well, necessary. This time felt more casual. Friendly, even. Like he was being too personal with someone so…important.

Skylar flashed him a bright, genuine smile which set him at ease. “It’s sweet of you to ask, but it’s alright. Nothing I can’t handle myself.”

_Maker, she could ask you to tear down the bloody mountain and you’d jump right to it. Get ahold of yourself, man!_ “If you’re certain, Lady Herald.”

“Yeah, totally fine.” She started nibbling at her fries again. “Let’s just enjoy lunch, yeah?”

Before she had fully gotten her last word out, an older templar man came all but marching up to the table. “Barris. We need to talk.”

“Or not…” Skylar sighed heavily, seeming trying to hide behind her long hair now.

Barris was appalled by the man’s rudeness on a number of levels, but he did his best to curb his reaction. “Ser Alrik, is it? Are you quite certain this can’t wait?”

“Absolutely not!” The man made an unsavory scowling look towards Skylar. And he seemed content to ignore Cullen altogether. “It is imperative to the Templar Order and its future.”

Skylar slumped against her seat. She really hoped Leliana was watching because she had a sinking feeling this was going to go south somehow. This had better be worth it. 

_At least you saved the Xbox.  
If I get punched for this, I’m demanding a new game._

Barris’s eyes narrowed at the man as he carefully set his lunch back down on his tray. Cullen shot him an apologetic look. Barris was certain that Cullen hadn’t seen the way that the templar sneered at Skylar or he’d have been outraged as well. Skylar clearly noticed it, however.

Her posture deflated, Barris could practically see her getting more uncomfortable by the second. She began to shuffle out of her seat. “I should go.”

“No.” Barris said quickly, his hand darting out and resting on her forearm. It hadn’t escaped his notice that she didn’t flinch under his touch. He was actually fully expecting her to and having to apologize profusely for it later. Cullen certainly elicited that reaction…but he didn’t? He had thought she just simply didn’t like being touched, but now? He forced himself to file that line of thought away for right now. He only vaguely registered that his thoughts were bordering on obsession and he did _not_ get obsessed. “Stay, my lady, please. Whatever the Knight-Lieutenant has on his mind can be said in front of you, I’m sure.”

A flush creeped up on her pale features but she seemed to school it back down as quickly as she could manage. Before she sat back down, she pulled her chair closer to Barris, giving herself just a bit more distance from the enraged templar.

“This is not an appropriate discussion for… _ **her**_ …to be a part of.”

Cullen shot Barris an annoyed look as he dropped his lunch. He turned in his seat to face Ser Alrik. From the expression on his face, Barris could tell that his friend finally caught up to the conversation. He seemed like he was only a short distance away from hitting the man himself. Barris leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’ll remind you that you were the one to pick the venue, Ser. And if you think your words aren’t fit for the Herald of Andraste to hear, then I suggest you re-think them.”

Skylar’s pulse quickened. Her instincts told her to run as far as she could from the situation. But Barris clearly thought this was a fight worth standing for and she wouldn’t abandon him now. Mostly considering that he might have been one of her very few friends that she had left. That’s what she was telling herself anyway. It definitely had nothing to do with her secretly enjoying this chivalrous knight thing that he was doing.

_Is he always like this?  
It’s not just for me, right? Oh, Maker, what if it is?!  
Shut up you! I am not doing this. _

Brushing all of that nonsense aside—because she definitely wasn’t ready to let herself twist whatever kind of friendship they had based on nothing but her own whimsical and foolish fantasies; She was still eternally grateful to have a friend like him who was willing to stand up for her. 

_The man deserves a medal or a reward or something.  
Oh yeah, we’ll give him a reward alright._

The thought took her completely by surprise. How long had it been since she had even wanted to think about _that_? She was just yelling at Varric about the subject not too long ago…When the void did that change? She focused hard to throw all of those girlish and naïve ideas out of her head forcefully. There was no way that she was going to let herself fall down that particular mental rabbit hole. And especially not now of all the damned times to do it…

Ser Alrik looked as if he were actually about to combust into flames. Skylar could practically feel the anger radiating off of him. “Andraste would never have sent an elf! And certainly not a filthy mage, to boot!”

That last part is likely what drew the attention of the mages’ table. It didn’t take long for the rest of the cafeteria to be turned to the spectacle. The looks on their faces ranged from offense to annoyance. Either way, it didn’t seem that the templar had many friends among their audience.

Barris was on his feet before he even realized what he was doing. “She is the will of our Lady made manifest! To deny her is to deny Andraste herself!”

_Oh I could **definitely** get used to being worshipped...  
Shut up, you! I am not fucking swooning!_

“She’s a mage, for fucks sake! Magic is supposed to serve us, not the other way around.”

Barris glared intensely, his fists clenched but he kept them on the table. “If petty prejudice bars you from serving the Herald then you’ve shirked your duties as a templar as well.”

The Knight-Lieutenant looked absolutely stunned. Cullen was seemingly beaming with both pride and excitement, he knew exactly what was coming and he was so ready for it.

“Ser Alrik,” Barris made sure to speak louder than normal. The man had clearly wanted an audience, and Barris was all to happy to give him one now. “I relieve you of your rank, effective immediately.”

“What! You can’t do this! You’re just a bloody knight!”

Barris scoffed as he took his seat again. “Tell it to someone who cares.”

_Andraste’s great flaming ass!  
Stop it…  
All of the rewards! Everything! All of it!  
Would you. Shut. The fuck. Up!  
I think I’m in love…  
I think I’m gonna get punched, you bimbo._

The next few seconds ticked by slowly for Barris. It was becoming increasingly clear that this idiot wasn’t going to wander off quietly with what remained of his dignity. Barris now wished that he would have had the foresight to swap seats with the Herald, she was in a vulnerable position as it was. If she were in his seat, she would have had her back to the wall and been properly protected from any retaliation. It made him on edge, watching vigilantly for the first sign of trouble.

Ser Alrik turned to Cullen once the initial stun had seemingly faded. “Knight-Commander! You have to do something! You saw Kinloch! Even Kirkwall! How can you support this?!”

Cullen set a hard gaze as he corrected him. “It’s Commander, now. And the fact that I follow the Herald willingly should tell you something. Especially considering my experience that you’ve so disgracefully summarized.”

Skylar suddenly found herself fighting against the urge to cry. To say that she wasn’t expecting this kind of support from Cullen was an understatement. She was just counting herself lucky that he was being nice to her today, she never thought he’d actually defend her if it came down to it. All they ever did was argue. But void take her, she wasn’t going to let herself look weak or overly emotional or any of that shit in front of them. Maker knows the last thing she needed was them thinking that she was some kind of fragile doll.

“This is insane! You can’t just kick me out!”

Cullen adopted a cocky expression as he motioned to a pair of soldiers standing guard at the cafeteria door. “I have no room for racists or bigots in my army.” He nodded to the soldiers as they approached. “I don’t want to see this man in Haven again. Get him out of here.”

“What?! I won’t be treated like this! There are others like me! You’ll be hearing from all of us, we won’t stand for this!”

Barris kept a judging gaze on him. “Be sure to take your friends with you, then. I hear the Reds are always recruiting.”

There was no ignoring the collective reaction that got from their unwitting peanut gallery. Skylar herself was rather impressed by the utter brutality of that statement. She had actually forgotten until that exact moment that he was, in fact, from a noble family. Most ‘grunts’, as Cullen called them, didn’t typically have the vocabulary or the wit to eviscerate a foe with only a few words. 

_So he has a sharp tongue too…wonder what else he can do with it—  
DO YOU FUCKING MIND?!_

The public reaction certainly did nothing to improve the now former knight’s mood. When Alrik turned his angry stare to Skylar, Barris felt his stomach drop. Like an unexpected dip on a roller coaster, but, Maker, so much worse. He even noticed Cullen tense up. He shot a quick look at his friend, just to make sure they were both on the same page—making sure they were both ready to react accordingly.

“You bitch! You’ve ruined everything!”

The moment Alrik moved to hit her, both Cullen and Barris sprang into action. With an unspoken coordination that could only be attributed to practiced brothers in arms, Barris pulled Skylar towards him while Cullen gave the now ex-templar a swift but powerful punch to the gut. Cullen shoved Alrik back into the soldiers’ grasp, snapping his head to order them to take him away.

Skylar’s chair made a horrendous noise as it scrapped across the rough tile floor. She was very clearly not expecting to be pulled like that and lost her balance near instantly. She found herself balancing on Barris’s lap, with his arm securing her around her waist. She bit back a gasp as she felt that long forgotten feeling of excitement flood in the very pit of her stomach. She was absolutely positive that there was going to be no way to hide her blushing now. She was feeling her body heat up in all the wrong—or right places; it was so damned hard to decide. Too many damned variables. And from such a small thing, too. Maker’s fucking Breath, he was just trying to make sure that she didn’t get her face knocked in and here she was ready to jump the man.

_What in the actual void is wrong with me?!  
What, you want a list?_

Cullen smirked as he watched the soldiers haul the disgraced templar away. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He suddenly noticed that everyone else in the room was still staring and rolled his eyes at them. “Oh, go tweet about it.”  
Barris scrambled to help Skylar sit upright in her own chair as fast as he could. “Forgive me, Herald. I didn’t intend to handle you so harshly.”

The moment he said it, he knew Cullen was never ever going to let that go. Skylar’s cheeks flushed brighter—if that were even possible at this point, he could have just as easily have been crazy by this point. Cullen turned back around towards them slowly. His eyebrow cocked as he snickered quietly at his friend.

Skylar straightened up and smoothed her hair back into place. “Oh, no, no. Don’t be sorry. That was, um, perfectly fine.” 

_Yeah and that was perfectly smooth…_

Cullen cleared his throat, seemingly unconcerned with hiding his smirk. “I’m going to discuss this with Cassandra. We’ll have a plan of action at the meeting in the morning, Herald.”

“I’m sure that’s not necessary…”

“Nonsense.” Cullen entire demeanor grew serious. “We won’t tolerate this attitude. It will be dealt with.”

Skylar gave him a small, but clearly grateful smile. “Thanks.”

Cullen nodded to both of them, flashing a mischievous look to Barris as he left the two of them alone. Barris sighed heavily as he turned back to Skylar. “I’m sorry you had to see that, my lady.”

She shrugged. But in her head, her thoughts were continuing to spiral into incoherent girlish madness. There seemed to be no stopping it now. “Honestly, that was the main point of being here today. Leliana was hearing that some of the templars were pissed at me or about me or whatever. But I kinda figured if I had done something wrong, one of you would have told me.”

“What? No, of course not! Maker’s Breath, you saved the bloody order. We’d all be Red if it weren’t for you.” He shook his head involuntarily to get the thought away. He felt a shudder creep down his spine at the memory of it all.

“Well, um, that’s good then.” She looked down again as she huffed a laugh. She started fidgeting with the silver ring she wore on her index finger. “It’s been a long time since people like that have been able to actually bother me, you know, for more than a few minutes…but uh, I really appreciate what you did…that was, um, kind of a big deal.” 

_You literally sound like you’re 15.  
Can I just die now? That would be great, thanks._

Barris grew a wide, prideful grin. “Of course, my lady, and I’ll do it again should the need arise.” Maker, was she nervous? The probability somehow began boosting his confidence through the roof. He didn’t quite understand it fully but he wasn’t about to question it now. The last thing he needed was to give her the impression that he was a bumbling idiot; he was a Templar, for Maker’s sake, he didn’t need to be giving any more weight to that stereotype.

She laughed a little—which definitely did not sound nervous at all. “Look, the point is, you know, um…thanks, but, like a lot.” 

As smooth as a mountainside, killer.  
Oh, just fuck off already…

“You’re most welcome, Herald.” He straightened his posture, trying to look as presentable as possible before he lost his nerve to ask. “Can I expect your company again tomorrow?”

She looked genuinely shocked but she recovered quickly, not that the blush that seemed to be appearing on her chest as well didn’t give away the fact that she was flustered or anything. “Is that, uh…you’d like that?”

“I would,” He smirked, “very much so.”

Her expression lit up for a moment. She looked away nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You know, I think I’d like that too.”

“It’s settled, then.”

“I guess so.” She flashed him a flirty smile before she left. “I’ll see you later, Barris.”

He watched her until she was out of his line of sight. He ended up sitting here for several moments longer, unable to get the Herald out of his mind. Maker, but she was going to make his religion very complicated if she kept that up.


	8. Chapter 8

“That doesn’t even make sense…” Skylar skimmed the very official-looking letter over again just to be sure she had in fact read that right. “They do realize that’s not how magic works…?”

Barris sighed heavily, already feeling a headache coming on. It had been years since he’d spoken to his family but unsurprisingly, they found a way to cause him trouble again. “They do. They’re trying to be difficult.”

“Well, I guess that’s one word for it…Honestly, I’m more worried about them potentially finding more difficult-minded people and rising against the dreaded ‘False Herald’. They make me sound like I’m some evil genius.”

“I’m sorry, Herald. I should have known they’d do this. My parents have always had radical ideals.”

Skylar scoffed. “It’s a wonder you turned out as well as you did.”

“I...what?” Barris was willing to bet that she was embarrassed. There went that all-too-familiar blushing again…right down to her chest…Maker, did she only own revealing shirts? Does she just do this to torment him? How is he not supposed to look?

“You, uh, well, um, I mean…you know you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and you’re all honor and chivalry and there-be-dragons—you know with the, uh, knightly-ness-thing…”

“What?” He snickered, wondering if that incoherent mess was a glimpse into her true personality. Maybe she was one of those people who read all of those fantasy novels, spent their free time playing video games. He never took an interest in any of that himself, but damn, it seemed an adorable fit for her. “Dragons?”

She looked like she was mentally kicking herself. Which she was. Her inner monologue was having a real field day at the moment. “Yeah, that sounded a lot better in my head.”

He huffed a laugh. “As you say, Lady Herald. I can reply to my parents personally, if you like?”

“Oh, no, no, don’t worry about it. I’m sure Josie will handle it with carefully cordial insults.”

“Of course,” He nodded acknowledging. He meant for it to be a simple, professional gesture but it seemed his impulses got the better of him. He let his eyes roam over her for just a fleeting moment. He could have sworn that he saw her expression light up when she saw it, but no, he must have been seeing things. Or was he? That blush was definitely forming on her chest again. He cleared his throat, trying to ground the both of them back to the conversation. “Still, it was good of you to tell me. You didn’t have to.”

She attempted to shrug as nonchalant as possible but it wasn’t very convincing. “Maybe not, but I figured I’d want to know if my parents were being, well, assholes. No offense.”

“None taken.” He snickered before he was able to control himself. Something about someone so bloody divine saying something so juvenile was damn near hilarious. They definitely didn’t teach you that in the chantry. He made a mental note that he’d need to hear it again sometime. “Well, I appreciate the effort.”

“Well,” A brief look of panic crossed over her. Like she wasn’t totally sure of what she was about to say. Her panic seemed to give way to something close to being flirty. She adopted a smirk and a slight sway in her hips. “Maybe I appreciate your appreciation.”

He raised an eyebrow, barely able to keep himself from laughing. “That sounded better in your head, too?”

“Yep. Way better. I’m just gonna stop talking now.”

“That would be a shame.” There went that confidence again. He was nearly convinced now that it somehow came from her embarrassment. It was probably definitely inappropriate on a few levels, but damnit he intended to go with it until his luck ran out. “It’s always a pleasure talking with you, my lady.”

He made sure to dismiss himself quickly after that. The fact wasn’t lost on him that he was feeling something suspiciously similar to excited embarrassment as well.


	9. Chapter 9

Skylar groaned aloud as she looked over the tentative schedule Josephine just handed her. The damned thing seemed more extensive than Killian's infamous kill-count. It was positively jam-packed with back-to-back meetings with nobility and other "important" people—entertainment celebrities, mostly. Which would have been amazing, if it were anyone she actually cared about. But nope. They just had to make the rounds with the Fereldens, it seemed...and the Marchers? The Orlesians? Maker, was there anyone that Josephine had actually excluded? A quick scan over the names reassured her that the Uriens were, in fact, notably missing from the list, much to her relief. Leliana must have done that, she figured. She'd have to thank her for that.

"Is all this really necessary?" Skylar protested.

Josephine nodded cordially but didn't look up from her laptop. She kept typing away simultaneously while holding the conversation with Skylar. It was rather impressive, if a little maddening. "The Inquisition needs to make a good impression, Herald. Without Chantry funding, we exist on the good will of the wealthy for now."

"We need their money? Really?" She rolled her eyes dramatically. "I mean, why can't we just make it on our own?"

"The council shares your concerns, Herald, and we are working towards more permanent solutions."

"Yeah. I know. We just spent the last…" She glanced quickly at her phone's cracked display. "…three bloody hours talking about 'our concerns'. Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

"I apologize for the inconvenience, Lady Herald; however, the situation appears irresolvable."

Skylar's expression deadpanned. "Is there any chance you're going to give me a response that doesn't sound like it came from the cookie-cutter PR-speak handbook?"

Josephine sighed dejectedly as she pushed her chair just a few inches from her desk. "My apologies, Ms. Tabris. These meetings are, in fact, necessary. And each of them have requested to meet you personally."

"Maker's balls. I am not that interesting."

"You give yourself too little credit." Josephine replied with a disinterested shrug. "But, truthfully, our guests seem to be more fascinated with your…family more than the Mark, truth be told."

Skylar scoffed. "So, they're looking to gawk at the tragic daughter of the late Hero of Ferelden?"

"Perhaps." Josephine said carefully, fidgeting casually with the button on her immaculately ironed shirt.

She rolled her eyes so far, she was genuinely concerned she might never get them out of the back of her head for a short, panicked moment there. "They want to see if I'm some kind of dreaded murder like Killian, don't they?"

The ambassador nodded simply. "That…is also highly probable."

Skylar let her head fall back, drawing in a calming breath. "You can't just tell them that I ran off to go save the world or something?"

"I have. On multiple occasions." She said pointedly. "And I have assured them that you will be free of distractions this afternoon."

"So, you set me up."

"With meetings, yes." Josephine slid her laptop back in front of her, wasting no time as she began typing away again. "Your first appointment is in one hour. I'll see you after lunch, Ms. Tabris."

Skylar huffed a disingenuous laugh, muttering under her breath as she shuffled out of the ambassador's office. "Unless I jump off a cliff in the meantime…"

Honestly, who wanted to deal with this on a Sunday afternoon anyway? She had half a mind to start bitching about labor laws. She needed a damn break. Between the frequent trips back and forth across the hinterlands and planning missions and these maker-forsaken meetings—Skylar hadn't had a day off since…well, never actually, now that she thought about it. Once she woke up from that nightmare after Theirinfall, it's been nothing but work, work, work. Sunrise to sunset. Weekends weren't a thing. She suddenly sorely missed her old waitressing jobs, at least those were predictable hours.

She wearily went through the usual motions when she got to the cafeteria. But her hopes to enjoy a proper lunch were thoroughly stomped on when she examined the options they'd laid out. Apparently, some sorry bastard decided it was 'healthy choice' day. The options were salad, soups, and breadsticks. They weren't even serving any liquids beyond water and fruit juices. This day officially sucked. She walked away with breadsticks and apple juice.

"Breakfast of champions." She muttered to herself, upon remembering that she had skipped the morning meal again in favor of waiting until lunch for some real food. Oh, how wrong she was.

The cafeteria seemed unusually quiet today. A good look around told her that at least half of the usual population was noticeably absent. Nice to know that everyone else seemed to get a day off. Well at least there wasn't about a billion pairs of eyes judging her every move today. That was something.

Seeing Barris sitting at their usual table was a real relief. Something was definitely weird though. Cullen was gone, like most everyone else it seemed. Barris had apparently chosen normal clothes over the templars' uniform. The table showed no signs that anyone had eaten at it, much less even used it today. He almost seemed bored. He leaned over the table, staring lazily at his phone.

Skylar slid into her seat slowly, eyeing him suspiciously. "Am I missing something?"

The boredom completely vanished from his face. He greeted her with a warm smile as he tucked his phone back in his pocket. "Missing something?"

"Oh, you know just these little things. Like how no one is here, you're missing a uniform, you literally look bored out of your mind…" She half-heartedly ripped off a piece of her breadstick, suddenly noticing that it lacked butter or cheese or anything appealing. "The lunch ladies seem to think it's okay to serve nothing but rabbit food."

Barris let out a hearty chuckle. "You have something against salad now?"

"Yeah." She replied playfully. "It's the food that my food eats."

"It's healthy." He managed between snickers.

"Hey. I'm here for a good time, not a long time. Healthy doesn't mean shit to me."

Barris shook his head at her in mock disappointment. "The Herald of Andraste is a picky eater. Somehow I don't think that's going to make it in the Chant."

"Yeah, well if the Maker wanted me to eat lettuce, he should have made me a rabbit."

He flashed a bright smile at her. "Well, if every second business wasn't closed today, I'd offer to find us some real food."

Skylar flicked her phone's display on to check the date, her eyebrows furrowed as her confusion grew. "Okay color me stupid, what's going on today?"

To his credit he looked like he tried to stop himself from laughing at her. Not that it totally worked but the effort made him seem a little more genuine. "It's Ascension Day. You know, the day Andraste ascended to the Maker's side?"

She just stared at him, going nearly completely still. "So, it's a religious holiday."

"It is."

"For Andraste."

"None other."

The look of utter annoyance that filled her eyes was palpable. "And her fucking Herald doesn't even get the day off?!"

Barris smirked. "Now that sounds like blasphemy."

"Oh no, you wanna see blasphemy?" She pulled the schedule that she had unceremoniously folded from her pocket, slapping in on the table. "Josephine set up back-to-back meetings all day."

"Meetings? With who?" He asked as he slid the paper away from her.

"The maker-forsaken nobles." She panicked for a short moment, realizing what she had just said. But thankfully he didn't seem to notice that she had all but shoved her entire foot in her mouth.

He scowled as he scanned over the paper. "Maker, why?"

Skylar sighed, hoping the schedule kept his attention long enough for her to push down that awkward flood of pre-mature embarrassment before he could notice. "I guess that anti-Herald movement has a leader now. She's claiming I'm possessed or something and magic is evil and I'm evil—I don't know. Point is: she's apparently making Josephine's life a living hell so now I need to play nice with all these nobles to prove her wrong I guess?" She rewarded herself with a small sip of her apple juice, only to find it far more bitter than she would have liked. "Damn, I hate politics."

He snickered at her but his expression suddenly turned horrified. His eyes locked onto the schedule as if it were some kind of threatening monster. "Maker, no…the De Launcets are the first appointment…"

Seeing him unnerved completely set her on edge. Anxiety slammed into her like a truck. "What the void does that mean?"

"No one should have to suffer the De Launcets."

She huffed a dejected laugh, trying desperately to hide how much she was freaking out. "Well I'm about to, I guess. Any advice?"

"Run."

An easy smile spread across her face again, she laughed breathlessly. At least he knew how to make her smile still… "Any serious advice?"

"Run faster."

"It's that bad…?"

"It says they're bringing Emile. It's that bad."

"What's wrong with him?"

Barris shrugged playfully, using a nearly offensive fake accent to drive his point home. "Oh, nothing. You'll probably just 'majjjic' his breath away."

An incredulous laugh burst out of her before she could stop it. The sparsely populated cafeteria seemed to have been startled, turning their collective attention to their table in sync with each other. Knowing that everyone around was staring at them like they'd suddenly grown an extra head was so embarrassing but at the moment it only made her laugh even harder. She clutched her side, wiping a stray tear from her eye. "What in the actual void was that?!"

Barris could barely speak between prideful chuckles. Making her laugh felt like a worthy victory. He'd have to remind himself to try that more often. "You don't want to find out, trust me."

Skylar took a deep breath to calm herself, but a wide, almost goofy grin still remained cemented on her face. "Yeah, well, Josephine will throw a fit if I don't show up."

"…If she can find you…"

Her eyes snapped onto his. Her expression betrayed her sudden curiosity. She leaned on the table, lowering her voice to make sure it didn't carry too far. "Are you suggesting that the Herald of Andraste shirk her responsibilities? How scandalous."

He huffed a playful laugh, mirroring her demeanor. "Well, it certainly wouldn't do for the Inquisition to be overworking our Herald on such a holy holiday."

"Oh, that was good." She slouched back in her chair. "Maybe I should make you come to these damn meetings."

He smirked mischievously. "What meetings?"

She shot him a confused look, glancing back down at the table to find that the schedule was gone. She scoffed playfully. "Right. I'm sure Josephine will miraculously misplace hers too. Oh and of course all those nobles will majjjicly disappear too."

A rogue snicker escaped him before he could control it. "Trust me, you don't want to deal with the De Launcets on the same day you'll have to deal with my parents."

"Wait, your parents are here too?"

"Evidently." He shrugged. "They're the 16:00 appointment."

"The what?"

He rolled his eyes playfully. "4 p.m. And I'm planning on making myself scarce until they leave."

"Oh, that's so not fair."

He smirked again as he slid away from the table slowly. "You could always come with me…"

Maker, she really hoped she wasn't blushing. He was obviously just being nice. It wasn't like this was going to be a date or anything. She focused hard to school her girlish thoughts to the back of her mind, but it wasn't very effective. She grew a flirty look as she lowered her voice again. "Is that your idea of a daring rescue?"

"A daring rescue?" A prideful grin flashed across his face. "I just couldn't sit idly by while you suffer such an egregious injustice."

"Oh, how noble." She teased.

He smirked at her but as he glanced out the window behind her, the light quickly died from his face. "Speaking of…"

She turned in her seat to see him pointing to an older couple all but marching up to an apartment building behind the cafeteria. "The De Launcets?"

"Worse." He deadpanned. "Mr. and Mrs. Bann Jevrin Barris."

"Oh…" Just judging by their body language, Skylar felt bad for him. Even from this distance, they seemed to be putting on airs. "They, um, do realize they're early right?"

He sighed heavily. "They're looking for me."

"Really?"

"I'd bet my entire inheritance on it."

She shot him a sympathetic look. "Maker, they found your apartment already?"

"Oh, I'm sure they did."

"Maybe you need to be rescued."

"What, twice in a row?" He flashed her a coy smile. "Now we can't have that."

She rested her weight on her folded arms, leaning over the table. "Then how about this: I'll save you from seeing your parents if you'll save me from the dreaded De Launcets."

He huffed a laugh, shooting her a grateful look. "A fine deal, If I ever heard one. One problem though: we're already down one hideout."

She followed his gaze back to his apartment building, where his parents had appeared to have already talked their way passed the doorman. "Well then we better book it to my place, before they block that off too."

"You would be…comfortable with that?"

The question was obviously genuine and carefully asked. But Skylar couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety over it. Maybe he'd heard about what happened to her…Maybe it wasn't such a deliberately guarded secret anymore…Maybe he was already thinking less of her for it…She schooled her reasoning back into power quickly. After what he did to that ex-Templar a few days ago, she had no reason to doubt him like that. He was probably just trying to be considerate. They were suggesting being alone in her apartment together—regardless of the intention, it could very obviously be seen as a little…scandalous.

She grew a mischievous smirk. "Well, you know you could always take your chances with your own place…"

"Maker, no."

She snickered at his reaction, motioning for him to follow her as she got up from the table. "Come on, I'll make you tank for me."

"You're making me what?" He huffed an incredulous laugh as he opened the door for her. "What even is that?"

"Oh, no, that won't do at all." She shook her head in mock disappointment. "Well, I guess you'll just have to be indoctrinated…oh! We're gonna play Diablo first!"

"What is that? Some kind of demon game?"

"Well, it has demons in it. Look, I'm not too deep in the lore on that one, it's just really fun to murder shit."

He smiled playfully. "Ah, sounds like wholesome family fun."

"Not in the least bit—oh, but there's this one guy in the first town that sounds exactly like Cullen!"

"What? In the game? You're kidding…?"

"I swear! It's so weird. It's literally like someone decided to imitate his voice—"

Barris suddenly held out his arm in front of her to stop her. "Across the street, now!"

"What? But we're…"

The dreaded sound of a pair of obnoxious orleasian accents caught her attention, just barely audible over the sound of the typical afternoon traffic. It appeared that the De Launcets blocked their path to her apartment and his parents blocked the path to his.

"The situation is dire. We've only one option left." He said with laughter evident in his voice.

"Run?" She asked, hopefully.

"Run!"


	10. Chapter 10

Leliana's footsteps were eerily silent as she paced back and forth. Her finger fidgeted quickly with her favored pocket knife. Her breathing was measured but harsh. Her eyes flicked rapidly to every separate piece of information their surveillance room could offer.

4 hours. It had been 4 hours since anyone had seen hide or hair of Skylar. Leliana had fully expected her to pull some sort of stunt when she'd seen Josephine's schedule, but this? No way she had planned this. Skylar was many things—most of them derogatory—but she wouldn't do this. She would have sooner drowned herself than cause Leliana—and by extension, the entire intelligence department—all this stress.

No activity within her apartment. No activity with her phone. She couldn't find her way out of her own neighborhood if her map app didn't tell her how to. Nothing about this situation comforted her in the least bit. Leliana's agents had already scoured the woods and the mountain paths over and over again. To send out yet another search party would draw too much attention. Something was wrong, Leliana was sure of it. And nothing Cullen was saying did anything to comfort her. Of course he'd support his friend, regardless of the circumstance. His input was tainted, biased. She couldn't trust him anymore than that damn Templar.

Perhaps she had misjudged him. Unlikely, but possible. He passed her extensive background check, even despite his familial ties. He seemed decent, honorable, trustworthy. But his parents had proven to be a different story altogether. Perhaps this was all part of the plan. Maybe he was meant to draw her away from the safety of Haven so she could be easily disposed of. It was a bit of a conspiracy, given all that she had observed of him so far, she had to admit…but that tiny clip of footage and the actions his parents had taken this afternoon had incriminated him as far as she was concerned. Ser Barris left Haven with Skylar in tow, that much they knew. Maker help his soul if he dared to return without her.

She already had narrowed it down to three preferred ways to eliminate him. Each slower and more painful than the last. Should the worst come to pass, she would not allow herself to grieve. She'd act without remorse. Deliver the justice Skylar would deserve. Her own atonement would have to come later…if at all. If it even mattered…

Her hyper-vigilant gaze snapped to the clock again. 5 hours now. It was enough to push her over the edge. To decide to make the choice that had always been blacklisted. Only in the most dire of circumstances…it wasn't just about Skylar, she told herself. It wasn't just about her guilt over the matter. If Skylar were truly gone, all of Thedas might soon follow…

She waited for Cullen to become distracted before making her move. He likely wouldn't have noticed her machinations, given his typical oblivious nature, but she couldn't afford to take any chances right now. She swiftly made her way to the roof, taking every precaution to ensure no one so much as caught a glimpse of her. The rooftop seemed the only "safe" place for this. If anyone overheard her, she might have to eliminate them too.

She absently reminded herself to cash in on this particular favor soon, having kept this secret for so long…she hoped beyond reason that Ashalle wouldn't blame her for this…

Hesitation and doubts were forced away from her as she slipped her phone from her pocket. The call began to ring before the first blast of that cold, mountain air hit her face. She secured the door behind her, hoping that the simple deadbolt lock would buy her enough time—if it came to that. She only absently realized that she wasn't even sure what she was planning for in that immediate moment.

The second rang came and went. The anticipation and frustration grew in equal measure. She cautiously crept to the ledge, looking over Haven from her considerable vantage point. Her scouts still patrolled discreetly around the town. No success yet. Of course not.

The third ring cut off prematurely. A familiarly smooth voice greeted her warmly. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Nightingale?"

"It's time."

He was silent. She could practically see the shock on his face. "You're sure?"

Leliana took in a fortifying breath. "I'm sure, Zev."

The humor returned to his voice, but the hollowness of it was overly apparent to her. "Sure enough to drop the subterfuge it seems…"

"Skylar is gone."

"Missing?" He asked, cautiously.

"Hopefully."

"I…see…" His own measured breath flooded the speaker for a moment. "I just have to—you know you can't take this back?"

"We can't afford to wait for a better outcome."

He paused again. For a moment Leliana was worried he'd bailed on her. "I'll take care of it…be careful, my friend."

"No promises."

She heard him chuckle half-heartedly before the line went dead.

The weight of her decision fell on her like a slab of concrete. She had to do it. There was no other recourse. Every other option had catastrophic consequences. Killian was the only option. She just hoped that spending the last 8 years in Aeonar hadn't changed him too drastically. The Killian she knew would stop at nothing to save his beloved little sister—and that was putting it mildly. He wasn't called the "Butcher of Denerim" for nothing…Maker, but she hoped she did the right thing…

Leliana suddenly spotted one of her agents briskly walking straight for the Chantry. Charter knew better than to appear as rattled as she did. She was looking for her, no doubt. Coming in to give a report in person, she assumed. Something too important to trust to a text or call. It unnerved Leliana enough to make her break her own rules.

She made her way back to the surveillance room as quickly as she could manage. She met Charter in the hallway, neither of them communicating with more than a couple of curt nods until they got behind the thick, reinforced door. Going from the brightly lit hallway to the dark, cold room was always a jarring experience, but Leliana had no time to wait for the luxury of adjusting to it.

"What is it?"

"We found her, my lady." There was a sense of relief in her agent's voice that greatly put Leliana at ease. "She's safe."

Leliana exhaled a breath that she wasn't aware she was holding. She'd have to scold herself for that later, she quickly schooled herself back into the typical emotionless demeanor that her job all but required. A dreadful pit formed in her stomach over the realization that she had released Killian pre-maturely…if she'd only waited…Maker, what had she done… "Where is she now, Charter?"

"Ser Barris appears to be walking her back to her apartment, my lady. Should I have them re-directed?"

"I'll handle it myself. Ensure the Ambassador is informed." Leliana grabbed her coat from the nearby rack harshly. She had half a mind to hang Skylar out to dry, but she needed to interrogate that damn templar first. Maker help him if she so much as got a hint that Skylar was in any way unhappy with their little outing…

A quick glance around the room reassured Leliana that the situation was well controlled now. Cullen gave her a calm, acknowledging nod. Most of the buzz and hype had died down considerably. She shot a quick glance to Charter, giving her one final command before she left swiftly. "You're in charge until I return."

She was unconcerned about the perception she was giving off, the demeanor she portrayed. Her anger overlapped it all. Her high-heeled boots hit the pavement with purpose. She crossed the few blocks to Skylar's apartment in record time. The cool, autumn evening and the fresh air did nothing to calm her, like it usually would. She wasn't sure if she was going to rip that templar's head off or scold Skylar into the void itself, though she was easily ready for either outcome.

But as she rounded that last corner, all of the rage that had motivated her suddenly died on the spot. Skylar was smiling, laughing even. She was…happy, genuinely happy. Leliana searched her memory but she was certain she'd never seen Skylar like that before…And it seemed that the damn templar was the culprit…Perhaps he'd get to keep his head after all.

She studied each of them carefully as she slowly approached them, keeping an eye out for any sign of distress. But even her most intensive observations gave her nothing to be suspicious about. Confusion, maybe, but not suspicion. Really, it was a wonder they hadn't kissed yet. They weren't even holding hands. Maker, this was going to be painful to watch.

"You know," Leliana grew a mischievous smirk as they suddenly noticed her and immediately became awkward. "You could have told me you were on a date."

Skylar chuckled nervously. "We were on a date? Damn, you should have told me."

Barris shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. "It—well, if that were a date, I would have made more of an effort…"

Leliana huffed a disgusted noise as she watched Skylar blush furiously. "Maker's Breath, you two are terrible." She tapped their shoulders, simultaneously prompting them in separate directions. "Go home, lovebirds."

Skylar shot her an annoyed look but reluctantly shuffled backwards towards her building. She grew a giddy smile as she looked back at him. "I had fun today…"

His expression lit up like a lightbulb, he almost seemed breathless as he spoke. "I—me too! Is there, um—maybe we could…?"

Leliana poked his chest pointedly. "Go. Home. Don't make me stab you."

Skylar flashed him an apologetic look. "Text me when you get home?"

"Home, Skylar. Now."

She threw a thoroughly rude gesture to Leliana before she disappeared behind the door to her building. Barris smiled at her antics as he turned to leave but stopped when he noticed Leliana staring him down. "What?"

"I've known that girl for 12 years. I've never seen her that…happy before."

"She…what?" Barris seemed genuinely surprised. He was likely expecting her to actually stab him, rather that voice an observational compliment.

She narrowed her eyes at him, unwilling to allow him any real sentiment over the suspicion she was still clinging to. "For your sake, I hope you don't fuck this up."

He turned slowly towards her, his smile fading quickly into a scowl. "Or I'll have to deal with you, I imagine."

A mocking laugh came from her before she could stop it. "I truly hope you never have to find out."

Barris shot her a serious look, clearly ignoring or outright disregarding her threat. "That local station was talking about the meetings a few hours ago, when we were in the car…Is it true?"

"About your parents?" She didn't wait for an affirmation; the implication was painfully obvious. "Whatever you've heard is likely true. They've aligned with the Divine Commander and this False Herald movement. They've declared war with us."

He looked away, his gaze growing distant. "I see."

Leliana studied his reaction for a moment, giving him a stern look. "I nearly ordered your assassination tonight."

"I don't blame you." He mumbled. "Whatever it takes to prove my loyalty, I'll do it."

The seasoned spymaster noticed movement in her peripheral vision. She looked up to see Skylar glaring down at her from her balcony. Her apartment was far too high up to hold a conversation, or for her to overhear them for that matter; but the expression on her face and the faint hint of ice between her fingers said enough for her.

Barris flashed her a warm smile as he waved at her, he gave Leliana a curt nod before walking away. Leliana didn't bother with the distanced pleasantries. It had been a long, stressful day and there was clearly nothing more to be gained at this point. She took the long way back to her own apartment, making a silent prayer to Andraste as she went. She truly hoped that putting a little faith into that damn templar wouldn't come back to bite her.


	11. Chapter 11

"You can't keep doing this."

Barris snapped back to focus, even automatically adopting a typical, attentive stance to really put the point across. Which of course made what he definitely wasn't doing pretty obvious to Cullen, who was now snickering at the display. "Maker, that was terrible. Were you thinking of handling her again?"

"I, uh, I have no idea what you're talking about." Barris scanned around for something neutral to look at. Anything that wasn't Skylar sparring in yet another form fitting top…but this one left her arms bare, only being held together by two thin straps over her shoulders. It must have been the same one she wore when he first saw her in Val Royeux...not that he should be that familiar with her wardrobe…Maker help him.

It was a wonder she was even warm enough given their setting. The training fields by the pond were always subjected to the icy winds coming from the mountains. _Right. The training fields. You know, where you're supposed to be working…_

Cullen shook his head as he studied his friend. "She's single, you know."

Barris's eyes bulged. For a moment there, Cullen was sure the guy was blushing. "Uh, what? Who?"

"Oh, no one." He smirked mischievously. "Just a particular person you've been ogling."

"Ogling? What?"

Cullen chuckled. "Just admit it, man. You'll feel better."

"I, uh…"

Whatever half-hearted protest he had planned was cut off when he was distracted once again. He watched Skylar use one of her frost spells to freeze Solas in place—much to the apostate's apparent disdain. From what he had gathered, Solas had been trying to teach her how to fight like a 'proper mage' and Skylar wasn't taking too kindly to his rigid lessons. Instead, she was doing everything she could to do things her own way. Barris couldn't help but smile at that. Stubbornness was a trait he could relate to. But somehow when it was her, the relatability turned into something ridiculously close to worship. Maker, did she make things complicated…

The more time Barris spent around her, the more obvious his damned obsession was becoming. He wasn't even certain he could still classify it as a crush at this point. After Theirinfall, he knew he'd kill for her—die for her, even, if it came to that. Now that seeing her everyday was routine practice, he suddenly couldn't leave his duties fast enough. She'd changed his entire lifelong work ethic with something as simple as a standing lunch date. He felt compelled to answer her every complaint, to fix her every little problem, to rescue her, to accompany her. He'd been reassuring himself that the feeling would subside; that it was just because she happened to be beautiful. But then Theirinfall happened. And his excuse became more complicated: he just felt so strongly because of her connection with Andraste. It was utter bullshit and he knew it, but admitting to himself that he was already so far gone felt so…dangerous. He had to separate her from Andraste in his mind. Skylar was beautiful and breathtaking in so many different ways. It had to be different. He certainly couldn't reconcile thinking certain…inappropriate thoughts about a holy prophetess.

And even that was bordering on driving him crazy. Sure, he'd had a few girlfriends over the years, and he was certainly wasn't 'pure' or 'untouched' in the ways the Chant would describe. But he'd never before had thoughts that made him feel like he was suddenly some kind of drooling lecher. His only saving grace was that he was the only one who would ever know about them. Maker, the thought of her ever hearing his base thoughts, or worse: seeing what he dreamed of…she probably wouldn't speak to him again—and he wouldn't blame her.

At least their most recent adventure together had been a much more relaxing one. He knew he had a ton of paperwork to do last night, the rest of the lieutenants would be arriving soon. There was so many little details he hadn't taken care of yet, but there he was at her apartment. He didn't even like video games, but watching how happy it made her completely changed it. They had stayed up until the early morning hours, and all their only activities consisted of her "indoctrinating" him into her "nerdery" and repeatedly raiding her kitchen for snacks. Now suddenly Barris was confident he could recite every second "fun-fact" about Skyrim and its' own political factions and cultures. He hadn't even realized how late it was until she had slumped against him on the couch. She was fast asleep, so tired she couldn't keep her eyes open or hold her own weight up anymore. He struggled hard to do the right thing there—at least, what felt like the right thing. He wanted to find an excuse to fall asleep with her, to be able to wake up next to her and let her be the first sight he saw in the morning…but it wasn't right. It was way too early for that. She might not have even wanted him to be there as late as he was. Not to mention, the possibility of him talking in his sleep was too embarrassing to risk it.

Maker damn him. This was insane. It was foolish. It was irresponsible, almost childish behavior. If anyone of his templars did anything like this, he'd be scolding them all the way to the Chantry. But for her…it was all different, it was acceptable. He found himself fighting against the recent realization that he was feeling something so much stronger than a simple crush…

Cullen nudged Barris with his elbow, suddenly bringing him back to reality. "Talk to her."

"What? No, no. I shouldn't disturb her."

"I seriously doubt that you'd be bothering her."

Barris tore his gaze away for just a moment to give Cullen a skeptical look, hoping it would be enough for him to drop the subject.

Cullen simply smirked, leaning in a little closer so he could speak just a little more discreetly to him. "Rumor is she likes templars."

"What? That doesn't—no, there's no way—who said that?"

"Leliana."

"Leliana?"

"Oh, now you believe it." Cullen could practically see the gears turning in his friend's head. He absently wondered if he was that bad when he met his wonderful wife.

"Did she, uh, say anything else?"

"Just that she's got some things best left for Tabris herself to tell. I get the impression she's had…bad experiences…with men."

Barris's eyes narrowed. Angry outrage started brewing in the back of his mind. But he schooled it back down momentarily with the logic that it was just a rumor right now. "If you're implying what I think you are, then that's all the more reason to leave her alone."

His mind threatened to swirl uncontrollably with anxious thoughts. Maybe he was a total idiot for not knowing that. Maybe there was some sort of sign or indication he missed while he was recklessly gawking at her. Maybe he overstepped yesterday…Maker, he prayed that them being alone together didn't frighten her…

"Or," Cullen countered, mercifully halting the mental spiral. "You might just be exactly what she needs. Someone who will treat her properly, help her heal."

Barris scoffed. "When did you become such a bloody romantic?"

Skylar seemed to have completed her match with Solas, backing away from him with a rude gesture—which she apparently was using as a goodbye. She looked right over at Barris as she strolled towards the gate, waving at him with a knowing smile. Barris was nearly dumbstruck. He barely managed to wave back with what was likely a goofy grin on his face. Her smile got noticeably bigger before she disappeared beyond the gate.

"Told you." Cullen said simply, feigning a great interest in the tablet in his hand.

Barris took a deep breath; the kind one does before attempting something reckless. He took off after her, probably a little faster than would have looked normal. He did his best to ignore the concerned onlookers but he still felt the weight of their gaze on him. Thankfully, she hadn't made it to her apartment yet.

"Lady Herald, a word?" _Before I lose my nerve…_

She was already smiling when she turned to look at him. Her eyes shined so brightly. Even in her disheveled state, she was breathtaking. It was nearly enough for him to lose focus right there. "What's up?"

_Ah shit. Maker's fucking breath, I hadn't gotten that far—quick! Make something up, man!_ "Oh, I was just, uh, well, I was wondering if you would, um…"

Skylar grew a prideful grin as she watched him stumble. But she waited patiently. Knowing that she was distracting him was more than enough to keep her undivided attention on him—not that he really needed much of a reason to draw her attention to begin with.

His mind snapped to a piece of advice he'd been given once: when you lose your senses, talk about what you know. Problem was, she'd all but slaughtered every logical thought in his head. The moment he found a solid idea he just blurted it out before even attempting to examine it. Anything had to be better than drawing out the increasingly awkward silence.

"There's, uh, been a report of some apostates in the hinterlands. I was wondering if , um, you could help deal with them?"

_Apostates?! Are you an actual idiot?! Do you not realize who in the bloody void you're talking to?!_

Some unreadable expression crossed her face. Her smile faded just a bit but a curious look took over her eyes. "Oh, yeah. I heard of them, too. Actually, I'm pretty sure I know where they are, now that I think about it. I'll make sure they're taken care of. I hear they've been harassing the refugees at the Crossroads, anyway."

"Right! Yes, that's—uh—good. Very good, actually."

Skylar's smile totally turned into a smirk. "You know, it might be nice to have some templar help on this one? That is, if you're not too busy?"

"No! Of course not! I—I mean, I'd love to be of assistance, my lady."

"Good." She huffed a playful laugh, making Barris nervously fiddle with the pommel of his bastard sword. "Very good, actually."

He smiled sheepishly. "That sounded a lot better in my head, too."

Skylar blushed a little, taking a step closer to speak to him just a little quieter. "I know we're supposed to be all polite and nice in public and all that, but I'd really rather you just use my name."

"Right, of course…It just seemed disrespectful to do anything less."

She still maintained a friendly distance from him but he couldn't help but notice how his temperature rose considerably from the closeness. "I guess it is for most people, technically. But I mean, I really don't care if people know we're friends."

"I, uh, of course. If that's what you want…" He made sure to meet her gaze, wanting to see her reaction when he said it aloud for the first time in such a public setting. "Skylar."

Her eyes lit up—definitely a good sign as far as Barris was concerned. She hadn't missed how he had said it with such reverence as well. He might as well have been talking about Andraste herself. Such a small, stupid thing. But with the amount of scrutiny she was constantly under in public, any small thing would surely pop up on Instagram within the hour.

She looked down nervously, smiling uncontrollably. "I'll get my things and grab a couple people to tag along. We usually meet up at the garage before we head out."

He nodded obediently, growing a smile of his own just from watching her reaction. "I'll make sure they have your car ready, then."

"Oh, um…" Her smile faded considerably. She looked completely embarrassed, and not in the fun way. "I don't actually have one."

"What? Yes, you do. Cullen picked it out himself. He likes it better than his damn jeep."

She sighed heavily. "Okay, fine. I, uh, I can't drive…"

"You can't? You were never taught?"

She hesitated a moment, trying to find the words to explain without making a big deal about the whole thing. "No, that was, um, way too expensive to be worth it…I've been just asking Dorian to drive me everywhere lately. You know, when I'm not with you."

"What? That's ridiculous—how do they expect you to get around?"

"They don't, if you believe the conspiracy theorists." She shrugged. "But really, I only made minimum wage and I was barely scraping by, so I just walked everywhere."

"Maker's Breath, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset." He ran a hand over his face. "I'm an idiot."

Her smile came back quickly, she had a chuckle in her voice now. "Hey, I happen to find idiocy endearing."

"I'd certainly hope so after that display…We could just take my truck?"

"I thought you only had the bike?"

He shrugged sheepishly. "No, it just seemed like a, um, better idea last time…"

She eyed him skeptically. "You were just trying to show off, weren't you?"

"Maybe…did it work?"

"Maybe." She laughed nervously as she stepped back towards her cabin. "I guess I'll see you soon, Barris."

"Delrin." He corrected, with a telling grin.

She looked back at him curiously. "Is that your first name?"

He shrugged. "It seems only right that I offer you the same courtesy."

"Delrin…well that certainly fits, I think. I like it."

"Well, good." He laughed lightly, "I don't think I could change it now."

She smirked as she stepped behind the door to her building. "I'll meet you at the garage as soon as I'm done."

"Of course," He waited until she closed the door to whisper it aloud again to himself. "Skylar."

His phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket before he had even fully turned around. He opened the notification to find a text from Cullen. He had linked a Twitter thread from Varric literally documenting the conversation Barris and Skylar just had in overly dramatic detail, followed by a series of laughing emojis. Barris rolled his eyes in disgust, reminding himself to punch that dwarf when he next saw him.


	12. Chapter 12

The forest itself seemed to emit a forceful boom all around them as the rift finally closed. The eerie green glow dissipated harshly, bringing the atmosphere back to its normal colors. The remaining bodies of the demons fully reduced to ash and scattered away in the wind. _The Crossroads had better be happy,_ Skylar thought bitterly, _That rift was easily the worst one in the entire hinterlands._ She had half a mind to march back into town and demand that cook at the diner give her apple pie for her trouble…or maybe pizza…fuck, now she was tired, aching, _and_ hungry.

Tracking down and eliminating the troublesome apostates took a sharp left turn when they rolled into town that afternoon. The Inquisition troops were surprised but utterly relieved to see them. The refugees had been all but flooding them with desperate requests to find what they described as a "red-eyed demon" that was evidently lurking around their town, and seemingly murdering indiscriminately. They were afraid to leave the town, even in the daylight. Sounded like something straight out of a horror movie. Skylar was ready to 'Nope' the fuck out of that mission but Delrin and Bull seemed all too eager to chase down the creepy shit. Lovely.

Chasing the creepy shit ran them right into the path of not one, but three maker-forsaken rifts. Each of them worse that the last. It was a rare day when she would be called to close more than one rift a day, and usually she had a few days' breaks in between. The Mark was clearly overworked. If she looked at it too long, she was convinced the damn thing was getting bigger. A distinct mental fatigue settled into her mind once again. She'd never had much experience with it until recently, but from what Vivienne had told her, it was her body's way of telling her she needed to rest, that she'd cast too many spells already.

_Your mana has been depleted, please take a long rest to recover._

Skylar flopped harshly against the nearest tree, clutching her marked hand to her chest. She only vaguely heard Varric and Bull talking about heading back to town for some reason or other. She really wasn't listening, she really didn't even know if she could concentrate on a conversation right now. Her lungs positively burned, catching her breath felt like a rigorous chore. The Mark thrummed heavily against her palm. The ache it caused felt as though it was spreading through her bones. She winced as she flexed her hand. The small movement only seemed to aggravate the Mark further, much to her dismay.

Her eyes wearily recognized Delrin predictably coming into view. A smile slowly crossed her lips as she muttered to him. "I said I'm fine."

"I didn't say anything…this time."

"Yet."

"Guilty." He agreed with a snicker in his voice. He reached into his backpack, pulling out an unopened water bottle. "Would an offering make it better?"

She huffed a breathless laugh as she reached for it, sending a tiny bit of icy magic through her fingertips to chill it on contact. "I guess I can let it slide just this once."

"Your mercy knows no bounds." He mumbled sarcastically as he lowered himself to the ground next to her. He stretched out, sprawling over the forest floor lazily as if he were actually accustomed to laying comfortably on grass that was littered with rocks in it. "Only you would chastise someone for worrying about you."

"I happen to know lots of people that would."

"Do those people also happen to be related to you?"

"…Maybe."

He smirked. "Then they're crazy too."

"Anyone named Tabris gets a default _'crazy'_ trait, it's unavoidable." She shot him a mischievous look. "And do you really wanna start analyzing family dynamics?"

"Neither of us are going to win that contest." He chuckled heartily. "Fine. I'll stop asking."

"Good."

"Just promise you'll tell me if something's wrong."

She rolled her eyes. "If I did that, I'd be talking all day, then. Nobody wants that."

"Debatable."

She meant to shoot him a playful glare, but her instantaneous blushing took over quickly. Her frown was morphed back into a shy smile as she looked away again. His expression was positively coated in pride.

The Mark flared up suddenly, making her suppress a groan. It was bothering her, truth be told. But it still wasn't enough for her to ask for help…yet. She wasn't even sure there was any real solution for it anyway. Well, anything that wasn't completely theoretical. It was either experiment with wild, magical theories or chop the damn thing off—which she had been told was expressly forbidden.

She forced her eyes to scan over the freshly conquered battlefield, hoping to find something to distract her from the pain until it subsided. She had a bad habit of allowing her anxious thoughts to overhype her injuries; she would have convinced herself that her whole hand was about to fall off if she didn't keep it in check.

"So," He started, as if he were actually reading her mind. "Is it always like this?"

"What?"

"The rifts, I mean. I've never seen one up close until today."

Skylar scoffed playfully. "Pretty much. Most of the ones in the hinterlands haven't been too bad though—just some wisps and shades and shit like that. I don't know what the in the actual void happened here to cause rage, despair, terror, _and_ the damn shades to pick this spot in particular."

He snickered as he sat back up and looked around thoughtfully. "Well, the fade reflects the waking world right?"

"That's the rumor."

"Wouldn't have to go back too far to find tragedy, then." He shrugged. "A lot of those smaller towns got wiped out from the Blight, especially in this area."

"Shit…" She looked around her surroundings with a new understanding, wondering if they were sitting where a house once stood. The forest floor was still damaged from the toll the demons had extracted from it. The stones were scarred with scorch marks, the trees looked as though a tornado had ripped through them. Likely from the pulse of the rift. But still, it must have been so much worse just a few years ago. "Guess we didn't hear too many details about it in the alienage. Until the ogres came busting down our gates, that is."

"You were there?"

"In Denerim? Yeah, where else would I have been?"

He shrugged indifferently. "I guess I assumed you went off with your mom."

"Killian did." She corrected bitterly. "Mom said I was too young still."

"Sorry…"

She flashed him a melancholy smile. "Parents, right?"

"She probably thought she was doing you a favor."

"Yeah, probably…didn't work though."

"Still scary, huh?"

"What, the darkspawn?" She shook her head slightly. "The scarier things are the monsters you're not allowed to fight…"

Delrin gave her a sympathetic look, squeezing her hand encouragingly. He didn't press the subject, which she was grateful for. She liked him—more than she probably should at that point, no question. But she really wasn't ready to unload all of the skeletons she had spring-loaded in her closet yet. It was more than enough to know that he was there to listen for now. She let her weight slide against the tree until her head was resting on his shoulder. Tiny bits of butterflies welled up in her stomach but she shoved them aside. She was too tired to care about it right now. He wrapped his arm around her in response, shuffling closer so she could put her head on his chest.

Neither of them talked for a while and Maker, was she glad for that. Feeling his chest move rhythmically with his breathing was as comforting as the warmth that radiated off of him. The butterflies kept trying to come back, but soon she was just too relaxed to allow them to flourish. No anxiety, no awkwardness. Just peace. If they weren't sitting in a probably haunted part of the forest, she might have even called it romantic. The setting sun certainly wasn't helping the image either. It suddenly dawned on her that they'd be spending the night out there if they didn't start moving again soon.

"We never did find those apostates." She smirked wearily as she felt his chest vibrate with his laughter.

"Well, there's always tomorrow." He flashed her a knowing smile. "Don't forget about that red-eyed demon they were complaining about."

She groaned. "I _really_ wanted to forget about the creepy thing cutting through the countryside like the fucking DOOM guy."

"The…what?"

"That's disappointing, I expected better from you."

He snickered. "It's a game reference, isn't it?"

"A game." She remarked, mockingly. "Every templar should play DOOM. It's like glorifying your entire job."

"Let it be known that the Herald has declared video games be apart of standard training from now on. I'll inform the Knight-Commander—oh wait…"

She grew a wide, mischievous grin. Her dark humor was clearly starting to rub off on him. "I'll make them put it in the Chant."

"Ah yes, the Chant of DOOM. My new favorite verse." He shook his head mockingly. "I can stick around here and look into it, if you want to go back to Haven tonight."

"Now why would I want to do that?" She shot him a coy look. "Sounds like a wonderfully awkward date-night."

His head fell forward dramatically, a bashful smile overwhelmed his expression. "Maker's Breath."

She wasn't sure how exactly it had happened, but suddenly she found herself staring face-to-face with him. Only a couple of precious inches between them. Close enough to feel his breath on her skin, to breathe it in. Those pesky butterflies flooded over her once again, with so much force she nearly physically felt the impact. Her inner monologue was absolutely screaming at her to do it, and she literally couldn't think of one reason not to…

He twitched when he realized it too, she felt his breathing shallow considerably. She moved just the smallest measure closer, putting her hand on his chest. He stayed perfectly still as his eyes locked onto hers. His voice lowered to a whisper as he spoke softly to her. "I don't want to…overstep…"

She smirked, whispering back as her eyes flicked down to his lips and back again. "Do I look offended?"

Both of them jumped as a third voice answered her. "You look like you're about to kiss so just get on with it, already. Fucking painful."

Skylar's head snapped in the direction of the voice, her hand was already forming a spell to chuck at the inopportune intruder. Her demeanor only softened slightly when she recognized Varric and Bull. Varric was holding his phone in a way that clearly gave away the fact that he was recording them.

For a short, panicked moment, she had the urge to distance herself from Delrin, wondering if he were embarrassed. But his arm tightened around her encouragingly. A sense of pride swelled up in her. Varric was probably broadcasting the event to the four corners of Thedas right now, but Delrin clearly didn't care. It could have just as easily been him protesting in spite of the intrusion though, she reasoned…but her head was far too willing to run away with the thoughts of over-exaggerated acts of compassion and that dreaded "L" word…

"Sorry Boss," Bull said, with only a small shred of sympathy. "Had to come back and find you when you didn't follow."

"And you absolutely had to let the dwarf record the whole thing?" Delrin asked, roughly.

Bull shrugged. "It's kinda what he does. Said he figured it was something noteworthy if you were held up for so long. Shouldn't have brought him, if you didn't wanna make a show of everything."

"Noted." Skylar deadpanned, shooting a glare at Varric as he approached.

"Staying frosty, Snowball?"

She shifted her position just enough to face Varric more fully, "How long have you been sitting on that one?"

"About a day." He admitted, "Readers love the cheese."

"Right. Anything for a follower."

"I'll have you know, my is stacked."

"Leech."

He chuckled. "I prefer the terms 'journalist' and 'influencer'. Now, tell us the story, huh? Your followers are dying to know…"

She closed her eyes, sucking in a deep, calming breath. "What fucking story?"

"You know. You and the templar."

Delrin let out a sigh, muttering quietly to Skylar. "I'm gonna hit him."

Varric simply smirked, completely undeterred. "I just want to say I totally called it. I knew you _liked_ him."

"Everyone in fucking Val Royeux knew that, genius." She only realized what she had said when she heard Delrin snicker. Panic ran right through her for a brief moment but seeing him smile brought her anxiety to a screeching halt. He shared a bashful look with her before Varric brought them back to the conversation.

"Not to mention everyone who was watching the livestreams…"

Whatever Skylar was about to say died in her throat when she caught a glimpse of movement behind Varric. It was Bull, she reasoned, at first. But no. He hadn't moved, not like that…something about it made her blood run cold. The area seemed to fill with enough dread to drown in it. She even felt Delrin tense up, before she said anything.

"Varric…" She warned, but she wasn't even sure what to tell him.

There went that hint of movement again. She got the distinct feeling of being watched, being hunted. "Why do I get the feeling that the game just auto-saved?"

Bull suddenly flipped around quickly, catching something with the broadside of his axe. Skylar noticed the flashes of red before she was able to get a good look at her bodyguard's latest victim. The Shadow bounced violently off the ground. His tarnished metal armor was bonded directly to his skin with the use of the large, red crystals protruding from him. Bull wasted no time, pulling out his shotgun and blasting him straight in the face. "It's the Reds!"

Another flash of red seemed to appear just beyond the tree line. A pair of crazed, corrupted templars charged right for them. Delrin jumped up to react immediately. Skylar held her hand out, trying to force out just one more spell. The magic sputtered painfully in her hand, rendering her nearly useless—much to her utter frustration. Varric quickly shot down the Reds before they could get to them, their tainted corpses rolled to a stop just before Delrin's feet.

Bull strolled up to them, still wielding both his weapons in his hands. "Better get a move on, Boss."

"Really?" She snarked. "No, I was thinking we should set up a campfire. Sleep under the stars. Roast some s'mores and paint a fucking target on my head for good measure."

She startled suddenly as Varric started firing into the trees right next to her. She darted behind Delrin before she even got a good look at what he was shooting at. A large, ominous cracking sound came barreling through the trees behind him. Skylar didn't have time to react to it fully before Delrin was yanking her in a wholly separate direction.

"Mage-Fire!" He slammed his shield down, planting it firmly in the dirt. He angled the two of them behind it quickly. The air around them ignited suddenly. Skylar screamed, flinching her eyes closed for a moment. Bits of fire still seared the ground. She heard the unmistakable sounds of Varric and Bull taking care of whatever problem had just shot a fireball at them.

Delrin yanked his shield out of the ground, keeping it ready between them and the forest line. His other arm was firmly wrapped around Skylar's shoulder as he moved, keeping her on what felt like the _"safe"_ side of the forest. "Move out, now!"

Skylar was positively shaking. "Reds have mages?!"

"They looked like Venatori. Just keep moving."

"Fuck! They're working together now?!"

Varric yelled to them harshly in between his carefully aimed shots. "Get her out of here, Templar!"

The pace Delrin set was so quick she could barely keep her footing. He was freaked out and she knew it. It felt like the forest was getting darker around them with every passing moment, much faster than it should have been with the natural sunset. She couldn't tell how far away they were from the town, but it was definitely too far to count on them for immediate help. Her heart pounded so hard she was convinced it was about to come out of her chest.

She noticed a dark flash of movement beside her and reacted instinctually. Her hand flew out towards it and a large forcewave of pure magic flung the Shadow several yards away from her. Branches cracked loudly as the Red collided through them. She was certain she saw the thing get back up, but before she could even think to scream or run, she saw something even more terrifying. A pair of bright, glowing red eyes appeared over the Shadow. It emitted a truly unholy scream as it was dragged into the darkness.

"Demon!" She shrieked. "It's the fucking demon!"

She tried to bolt but Delrin tightened his grip on her further, keeping her in place. He spoke harshly to her, picking up the pace. "Don't run!"

"It's gonna fucking kill me!"

"I won't let it!" He emphasized his words by flexing the grip he had on her. "You run and you're an easy target. Stay right here."

Varric and Bull shouted commands to each other, firing rounds into the forest around them as they moved. Skylar flinched every time she caught a glimpse of one of the attackers in the forest. The red-eyed demon was hot on their trail too. She couldn't tell if it was hunting her or the Reds or the damned Venatori but Maker, she did not want to stop and find out.

A wall of flames abruptly manifested next to them, flowing like a raging river right at them. Delrin was busy blocking the stray bullets from his side. Varric and Bull were distracted with their own battles. That mental fatigued still dogged her. But how could she just sit by and do nothing? She'd been warned not to push it, to respect her own limits given how 'untrained' she was. But all she could hear in her head was her friends encouraging her with their lessons they'd given.

_"Stop thinking." Solas chastised. "React. Defend. Protect. Trust your intentions."_

_"Lose your fear, Darling." Vivienne reminded, gently. "A frightened mage is a dead mage. And you, are no helpless wallflower."_

_"Just do what I do:" Dorian snarked, "Drown it in fire until it stops squirming."_

"Andraste had better be watching right now…" If she was going to push it, she might as well make it count. Skylar took one last look at her companions, checking to make sure she didn't hit them with her spell. Summoning every last bit of willpower she could conjure at the moment, she threw up long, icy barriers on either side of them. The Reds who were too close to the barrier became impaled by oversized icicles, the Venatori now had to find a way around or through her spell; both options bought them the precious time they needed.

A dull, pulsing ache formed quickly in her head. The air seemed to be forcibly siphoned from her lungs. She gasped for breath, nearly collapsing if it weren't for the tight grip Delrin had on her. Terrified screams echoed loudly from the other side of the barrier. It was only then that Skylar realized that she'd essentially trapped the Venatori with that demon…

"Well shit." Varric sighed dramatically, the sass returning quickly to his voice as he caught up with them. "Guess that solves the mage problem."

"For now." Delrin corrected, pointedly. His arm loosened slightly around Skylar, but judging from the tenseness in his posture, he was still on edge. "Bull?" He shrugged off his shield, handing it to the Qunari. "Take it."

Bull grinned like a child clutching their favorite toy. He flipped the shield around, inspecting it heavily as they walked. "I've been meaning to get a good look at this thing."

"Just don't dent it." Delrin used his free arm to pick Skylar's legs from under her.

She yelped indignantly from the unexpected swiftness of the action. She glared lightheartedly at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "I can walk, you know."

He shrugged, attempting to school down a prideful smirk. "You're too slow right now."

"Uh-huh." She muttered sarcastically.

"Swooping _definitely_ involved." Varric muttered, seemingly lost in his phone again.

The screams and shrieks continued, blood splattered on the other side of the barriers. Skylar's eyes bulged as she watched the silhouette of that demon tearing into those unfortunate mages. She almost felt bad for them. Almost.

Bull rapt his knuckles over the shield, as if to test how solid it really was. "Hey, Templar, What'd'ya make it out of?"

Delrin shot him a scathing look. "Obsidian and Stormheart, primarily."

The ice barrier suffered a serious crack as one of the Venatori were violently thrown into it. Skylar startled at the sight.

"Really? Damn."

"Why? What did you make your axe out of, Drakestone?"

It suddenly dawned on her that the only thing keeping the damn demon away from them was her magic. And she had barely pulled that off. Maybe it wouldn't kill her to take some real lessons from Vivienne when she got back to Haven…

"…Dawnstone." Bull corrected, sheepishly.

The demon seemingly manifested right beside them on the other side of the barrier. It stayed far enough back so that the only thing visible were it's unnerving eyes and the silhouette of it's shape. It was hard to know for sure, but Skylar was convinced it was fixated on her specifically. No one else seemed to notice or care about it. She started to wonder if they even saw it in the first place…maybe she was going crazy…it seemed to just stand there watching them for a few seconds before it disappeared back into the darkness.

"Maker, why?"

"It was pretty."

They all seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief as the town's gates started to come into view. A small group of scouts were already making their way up the path towards them. Probably coming to check out what all the commotion was, Skylar figured.

"We made it." Varric seemed to mutter in disbelief.

Skylar let out a short, breathless chuckle as she playfully poked Delrin. "It's your turn for a daring rescue next time."

A weary smirk danced over his expression. "Check your math. I'm still up by one."

"No, no, no, no. You're down by four by my count."

"Four?" He shook his head as he snickered at her. "Saving my _character_ in a _game_ does _not_ count."

"Does too."

"Does _not_. You can't respawn in real life."

Skylar snickered harshly, "Tell that to Cassandra."

"Damn Boss." Bull barely tried to hide his laughter.

Varric grinned wickedly but didn't tear his gaze from his phone. "That's so going in the book."


	13. Chapter 13

The sun had set little more than an hour ago, but it was already cold enough to make Skylar think about turning in early like Varric and Bull already had. Every small gust of the icy Ferelden wind set a shiver right through her. She seemed to have kept it hidden well enough though. Delrin and her had found themselves alone beside the campfire they'd made between the small cabins the quartermaster had given them for the night. They sat in a surprisingly comfortable silence. It had been a long day, for everyone.

She likely would have been asleep by now if it weren't for that damn Mark. Delrin had definitely been eyeing their designated cabin for the last few minutes, too. Not that she could blame him. No matter how crappy those beds would be or how small the accommodations were, they were the best damn luxury one could expect in this middle-of-nowhere town. She just hoped the place wasn't as spider-infested as it looked. If she had to deal with creepy crawlies during her early morning pee, someone was going to have to answer for it.

She found it kind of funny that the quartermaster just assumed that she wanted to sleep in the same cabin as Delrin. She absently wondered if there were rumors getting out by now…The Mark pulsed harshly again, making her suppress a wince. She should have said something about it hours ago. Now she was stuck with a hand that hurt so bad it was next to useless.

She happened to catch Delrin looking at her from the corner of her eye. She flashed him a nervous smile, hoping she didn't do anything to make him worry. "Something on your mind?"

"Just wondering how you're feeling." He replied, carefully.

She shrugged as casually as she could manage. "You could have just asked."

"I thought that wasn't allowed." His tone was lighthearted, but the concern in his expression was evident. "Are you hurt?"

"Not exactly."

"What does that mean? Did you get hit?"

"No, no, no, it's not like that."

His eyes narrowed at her. "You promised you'd say something. What is it?"

"It's…" She looked him over, carefully trying to gauge what his reaction would be. She wasn't sure of whether he'd be uncomfortable or enthused about the idea, but she was running out of options quickly. She just had to try it at this point. "Can I hold your hand?"

Delrin was sure that he was hearing things. No way she just asked him to do that. You know, _like that_. He'd done so before obviously, but there was always a sense of necessity behind it to explain it away. Doing so now…well, it seemed to have more intimate implications, given the circumstance. But there she was, sitting there with a heartbreaking amount of hope in her eyes. No one else around—save for the guards occasionally passing them on patrol. She was rubbing the palm of her marked hand with a grimace on her face. She shifted her weight nervously and looked away, obviously embarrassed.

He suddenly found himself scrambling for something to say. "I…uh…whatever for?"

_Damnit, you idiot! Do you really have to question everything?! Look what you did!_

Skylar's shoulders slumped reflexively, but she fixed it quickly as if she were trying to act normal. She looked away at the ground, shuffling her boot into the dirt. "Nothing, nevermind. That was stupid, just forget it."

"No, of course not!" He needed to do something to fix it right now or be might actually self-implode. He reached for her marked hand, hoping that would quiet any of her immediate fears. _Maker, what she must have been thinking…_ He brought it closer, laying it out flat to get a better look at it. The Mark was as bright as he'd ever seen it. The skin directly around it seemed red and irritated. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

She shrugged, keeping her other arm wrapped around her waist. Her long hair fell in front of her face but she didn't make a move to correct it. It felt like she was attempting to hide in plain sight. "It's just sore. I shouldn't have said anything. It will go away, eventually."

Well, that wouldn't do at all. He silenced every little voice in his head that it was wrong or inappropriate or any of that other bullshit. "I'm not sure how it would help, but if that's what you need…"

He laced their fingers together and flattened his palm against hers. He felt the magic thrumming from the Mark heavily. It was a wonder she didn't complain earlier. He tried to imagine having to deal with that; it would have been near impossible to fight properly. Probably a good thing she usually didn't need to hold a weapon then.

She blushed but she seemed to relax. A nervous smile crossed her face when she looked at him again. "Well, it's just a theory, really. But Cullen said that the templars could suppress the Breach. I figure if the Mark effects the Breach, maybe you could suppress it too?"

Delrin hadn't considered that—but theoretical applications of magic weren't really his strong suit after all. "I could try it, if you'd like?"

"Please? I'm kind of out of options, otherwise."

He gave her a reassuring smile as he wrapped his hands around hers. He could throw a dispel on a sprinting mage from dozens of yards away but this was different. It was experimental, uncharted territory. He couldn't afford to be anything but absolutely careful. When he felt ready to attempt it, he looked up at her for permission. She was already fixated on him, she seemed hopeful. It brought an easy smile to his face, knowing that this small thing he did brought out such a positive reaction. "You'll let me know if this hurts you?"

"Yeah, of course, don't worry." She huffed a laugh. "If it goes wrong, I'm sure I'll be screaming and next thing you know we'll be ass-deep in demons."

He snickered, trying to maintain his focus. "Maker, I hope not…"

"It's alright, I trust you." She definitely hadn't expected herself to say that…or expected it to be true. _Well, there it is. You're screwed now._

Delrin seemed surprised as well. He blinked a few times and looked away, evidently to try and hide a nervous smile himself. He took a deep, calming breath. Soon enough, his palms glowed slightly. It looked like a bright, golden aura—If Skylar wasn't positive that he was a Templar, she might have accused him of being a mage. It was fascinating to say the least; she'd never gotten to see a templar's abilities up close.

She felt the mark pull uncomfortably for a moment. But before she could even complain about it, she felt the ache dull. She watched the bright green light dim steadily until it seemed to recede into its normal state. For the first time in a long while it wasn't bothering her in the least bit, she was almost worried that it was gone for good. Delrin seemed to notice too. He laid her hand out flat again to inspect her palm. He ran his thumb over the Mark just to make sure that he hadn't accidentally altered it in some way.

_Ah, fuck that feels good…_ She closed her eyes, feeling probably a little too relaxed now. She felt his fingers freeze in place suddenly, making her open her eyes again reluctantly.

He was staring at her, seemingly shocked. His mouth hung open just a little. He cleared his throat nervously and withdrew his hands, only to fidget with the spare cloth attached to his armor. "That was, um…I'm glad I could help."

Skylar felt her pulse quicken. Heat flooded to her face, her stomach. She definitely felt herself start blushing again. "Please tell me I did not say that out loud."

Delrin tried and utterly failed to contain a prideful grin. "You were…very vocal."

"Ah, fuck." She covered her face in her hands, letting her hair fall in front of her again. "Andraste's ass, do not tell Varric!"

He burst out laughing, which did nothing to curb her embarrassment. "I'm sorry," He continued, chuckling between words. "I swear that dwarf will never hear a single word about the, um, noises you were making."

"Maker's fucking Breath, I'm so sorry! That was so awkward."

"Unexpected, I suppose. But not awkward."

She lifted her face back to look at him, her cheeks were almost totally pink. "Yeah, unexpected is a word for it. For the record, I _really_ didn't think it would feel like that…definitely doesn't happen when Solas messes with it."

"You have Solas do that?" He blurted it out before the logical side of his head could talk him out of it. Now he could only hope that she didn't take that the wrong way.

She huffed a nervous laugh. "No, nothing like _that._ I mean, he stopped it from spreading when they found me, right? So, I asked him to see if he could try to do that again. But, yeah, he didn't like that."

"He wouldn't do it?"

"I mean, he took a look at it and said he couldn't do anything. Which is fine, if it's true. But I don't know if I believe him."

"You think he lied?"

"Maybe. He definitely made it seem like I was bothering him. Like it was some kind of offensive request or something."

Delrin shook his head disapprovingly. "The man is a fool."

Skylar's head cocked to the side as she looked at him curiously. She leaned forward a little, resting her folded arms on her knees. Which was definitely not the thing to do if she wanted him to look at her face. It was as if she were silently daring him to elaborate.

He shrugged, trying his best to act like he was still cool and calm beneath her gaze. Because he was definitely not feeling like he was about to jump out of his own skin at any moment. "Well, if I made you feel unwanted, I'd be begging for your forgiveness."

"Oh, really?"

"Really." He couldn't help but notice this little twinkle of excitement in her eye. He made a silent vow to himself that this wouldn't be the last time that he'd see it.

She smiled bashfully, looking away for a short moment. "You've made me feel a lot of things, but I can safely say that unwanted was never one of them."

"Would it be too forward to ask what kinds of things?" He smirked as he watched her mull that over. A nervous chuckle, a fidget with her hair, a blush flashing further down her chest…he was starting to anticipate her exact reactions. And Maker, all he could think of was the hope that he would only get more familiar with her…

"Lady Herald!"

The both of them jumped as an Inquisition messenger seemingly materialized in front of them. They were on their feet almost simultaneously. Delrin couldn't help but glare at him a bit. Whoever the man was had truly disastrous timing.

"M-Message for you, your grace, it's urgent." The messenger's hand shook as he held out the small piece of paper.

"So urgent they couldn't send a text?" Skylar snarked, but smiled reassuringly as she took it. "Calm down, Soldier, try not to wet yourself."

"Right—yes, sorry, ma'am."

She shook her head, folding open the note carefully. A frown came over her face.

"I-is there a reply, ma'am?"

"No, no, nothing I can't tell them myself." She tossed the note unceremoniously into the fire. "You, uh, you can go now or whatever."

"Uh…what, ma'am?"

Delrin rolled his eyes. Quickly donning his 'no-nonsense' demeanor, he stepped towards the soldier. "Report back to the Commander. Dismissed."

"Right! Yes, sir!" The messenger left a small dust trail as he scurried away back to his car like a frightened nug.

Realizing that the messenger had to have pulled up on the gravel path leading to this small, guarded town was a bit of a shock to Delrin. That's the kind of noise he typically would have noticed. He hadn't even heard him speak to their lookouts, but he must have had to do that too. It was hard to believe just how distracted he must have been for all that to get passed him.

"Maker's Breath, where does Cullen even find these people?" He muttered, turning back to Skylar. She was staring down at the fire now, seemingly lost in thought. Something about her demeanor seemed so sad, so distant.

"Hey," He reached for her hand slowly, hoping he wasn't overstepping. She seemed surprised but she laced her fingers with his. It felt like she needed it. Somehow, he understood without her saying it; she needed to ground herself. He could practically feel her anxiety himself. He gave her a moment to calm down a little before asking carefully, "What did it say?"

"Not much…just that the last of the Knight-Lieutenants have arrived."

"That's good, then. We have the numbers to help you seal the Breach now." He eyed her curiously, hoping to find the true answer to her dismay written somewhere in her expression.

"Yeah, of course." She hesitated. Whatever she said next, he just knew it was going to be her way of hiding behind something. "I just, um, wanted more time to close the other rifts."

He nodded slowly. "Well, we've cleared out the most populated regions already. Closing the Breach may close the rifts themselves for all we know. But if not, then we can always come back and finish the job."

She scoffed bitterly, her grip on his hand tightening just a little. "Yeah, here's hoping."

There it was. She was afraid to die. She actually believed she would. It seemed like the worst possible scenario to him, and an unlikely one at that. He simply wouldn't let it happen. Magic can be wildly unpredictable but she'd be standing with a small army of trained mages and Templars. If something went wrong, they were in the best possible situation to deal with it quickly. With all the help she had managed to procure, sealing the Breach surely wouldn't be as hard as what she was imagining.

But still, she was scared. The nearly irrational kind of fright that logic doesn't seem to affect. She could be practical and objective when she needed to be. But not this time, it seemed. He searched for anything to say to comfort her. It had never been something he would have claimed he was good at, but he had to try for her sake.

"Have faith." He squeezed her hand encouragingly. "Andraste will guide you, just like before."

That earned the smile he was looking for. She looked up at him, the fire lighting up her eyes in the most captivating way. "You think so?"

"I know it." He made sure to put on a brave face for her. But he'd be a liar to claim that he wasn't worried himself. It was impossible to know what Andraste's plan was, just how long she'd have use for a Herald—or if the Templar's alliance with the Inquisition might end once the Breach was sealed…

"Thanks, Delrin…for everything." She was blushing again when she looked up at him.

"Always where you need, I swear it." Feeling a sudden rush of boldness—likely from not knowing what would happen tomorrow—he lifted her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles. She gasped, or was that a squeak? Whatever it was, it was immediately accompanied with her eyes going wide. She bit her lip, as if she were physically forcing herself to shut up. It only served to amuse him though. He chuckled as he brought her hand back down, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. "You should get some rest."

"What? Oh, right. Sleep." She laughed nervously. "Because I'm supposed to share a tiny little cabin with you and not think about that—this—whatever that is—was, whatever!"

Delrin shrugged as he began guiding her to their cabin. "I could always sleep outside if it makes you more comfortable?"

"Oh, come on, that would me mean." She shot him a mischievous look. "Maybe I should just go squeeze between Varric and Bull. The quartermaster said they'd have to share a bed."

He shook his head. "I wouldn't recommend that."

"Aww, was that jealousy I heard?" She said it just about as playfully as she could have but it still struck him on a level he really wasn't expecting.

"A little." He said it quickly, without thinking. He even stopped in his tracks, starting to pull away from her. "Maker, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"Make me feel wanted?" She smirked as she pulled him towards her, backing her way into the cabin. "Perish the thought."

He huffed a nervous laugh. Absently, he was hoping that Varric wasn't still awake and hearing all of this. "Wanted? I thought it sounded a little…um…possessive."

The cabin was so bare-bones, it only had one dim table lamp for a light. They both noticed the glaring problem with the cabin the moment they stepped foot inside on those old, creaky wooden floors. It only had one bed, just like Bull and Varric's cabin. There were two sleeping bags laid out next to each other, barely fitting on the narrow mattress. Their backpacks were neatly placed on their respective sides of the bed. There was no way it was a mistake. Someone had purposely organized that, and they each had a suspicion it was a certain annoying dwarf who went to bed suspiciously early...He was at a total loss for what to say. No way that dwarf wasn't getting punched in the morning. He had half a mind to march over there and do it right now…but judging from her reaction, that wouldn't be necessary.

The look she gave him was positively dangerous. Like she was daring him to follow her lead. She let go of his hand as she laid out across her sleeping bag, flashing him a suggestive smirk. Something in the way she did it made him think she was putting herself on display for him. Like she wanted him to look, to watch. He had to focus hard to get that thought out of his mind. Maker's Breath, she couldn't even manage to blink right now without it seeming suggestive to him. "I might not mind that, coming from you."

He nearly choked. On nothing but air. His whole body froze. _Bees. Abominations. Darkspawn. Red Lyrium…Whew, okay, that was close. Maker, this woman is going to kill me._

She giggled as she quickly folded herself under her covers as if she were retreating. "That got a reaction."

"An…inappropriate one, I apologize."

She pushed herself up on her elbows, locking her gaze with his. She patted the empty space next to her with her hand, inviting him to sit. "Do I look offended?"

The question certainly sounded innocent enough. But he felt the need to put her back on her toes so to speak. He smirked as he carefully accepted her invitation, slow enough for her to object. "You look as beautiful as always, Skylar."

She blushed furiously, sinking down under her covers to hide her face. Her voice was muffled but he would still hear the laughter in it. "That's not fair."

He snickered as he began unlacing his boots. "You started it." The realization dawned on him that he hadn't seen her do the same. "Are you really going to sleep in your clothes?"

"Yeah, you know, it's crazy. I thought it might be weird not to considering the, um, situation…" She poked her head out of her covers, hesitating for a long moment when she became aware that Delrin did not seem to have the same modesty policy that she did. He'd nearly removed everything but his pants already.

He still had his back turned to her but he could practically feel her staring. He shrugged, "Templar recruits don't get much privacy in their quarters, you learn to deal with it." He shot a knowing look at her as he climbed under his covers. "Go on, get comfortable. I promise I won't look."

"Uh huh, sure you won't."

"I won't!"

"Yeah, because men don't like to watch beautiful women strip. That would be weird."

His eyes widened for a moment. _There's an image…_ it was a damn good thing they were in separate sleeping bags or he'd have a lot to explain right now. _Maker, where's a Chantry when you need one. Flirt now, repent later. Solid plan._ "As appealing as that sounds, I wouldn't. Not without your permission that is." He couldn't help but smile, watching her stare incredulously at him.

"Are you real?"

He huffed a laugh as he turned away from her. "Just tell me when you're done."

There were a few moments of stillness where the only noise came from the quiet crackle of the fire outside. But soon he heard the covers shuffling. A twist, a snap, some sort of dragging and then the rustle of the covers again.

"Done." She muttered quietly.

He made sure to turn back around slowly, just in case she decided that she needed more time. It was pretty obvious from the pile she'd made in the corner of the room that she'd only left herself in her undershirt and panties. _Bees. Abominations. Maker, she's not even wearing her bra—Darkspawn! Red! Lyrium!_

She looked at him curiously. "Something wrong?"

"No!" He shifted onto his side and discreetly crossed his leg, hoping the covers would hide anything that might be…awkward. "I'm just, uh, glad you're comfy."

"Right." She turned towards him with a knowing smile, keeping the covers close to her chest. She had such a grateful look on her face that almost seemed out of place. "Not to…kill the mood or anything, but…thank you."

"Whatever for?"

"For being, you know, trustworthy, I guess." She looked down for a long moment, like she was debating whether she should say what was really on her mind. "I'm sure the rumor mill has been spinning, but…you should hear it from me: Something bad happened to me a long time ago and it…makes it hard for me to trust certain people—men especially."

_So, it is true…Maker damn the bastard to the void!_ Heat swelled in his chest. His thoughts were nearly overcome with anger and outrage. "Maker's Breath, Skylar, I'm so sorry."

She shrugged sadly, looking away again. "It's fine—okay, not really. It happened like 10 years ago. It's not exactly a raw wound anymore, but it kinda changed me for a while. I've been just assuming that every man was like that since then…I just wanted to say that I appreciate you proving to be the exception."

His expression grew serious quickly. "I won't ever give you a reason to think otherwise, I swear it."

"I know, I trust you." She smiled at him for a long moment before she lowered herself under the covers fully. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Skylar."

He clicked the lamp off and rolled over on his back, propping his hand behind his head. His mind wandered right back to what she had just told him as he glared at the ceiling. The thought of someone doing that was downright sickening in the first place, but to Skylar? Maker, if he ever found the man, he'd lop his fucking head off the first chance he got. Maybe Leliana could find out? If she didn't know already, that was…maybe he was dead already. Delrin sorely hoped he was, or he'd be sending him to the Maker shortly.

"Delrin?" She looked over at him sheepishly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Can I hold your hand?"

He smiled as he found her hand in the darkness, lacing their fingers together. "Always."

She was asleep quickly then, looking so calm and peaceful with a small smile imprinted on her face. She was happy, he realized. His last conscious thoughts before sleep took him were of her, and how he was going to try to make her happy again and again until she grew tired of him.


End file.
